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FORTY  POETS  ON  THE  WHEEL 


University  of  California. 


LYRA  BICYCLICA: 


FORTY  POETS  ON  THE  WHEEL. 


BY 


J.  G.   DALTON. 

• 

SRSI1} 


ERIPUIT   MUS^E   IGNEM,  CARMENQUE   CANENTI. 


BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED    FOR    THE    AUTHOR. 
1880. 


Copyright,  1880, 
BY  J.  G.  DALTON. 


UNIVERSITY  PRESS: 
JOHN  WILSON  AND  SON,  CAMBRIDGE. 


Bicydian  bards  who  sung' 
Wheely  ideas  below, 

Which  always  find  us  young, 
Or  always  make  us  so. 

4t& 


'  ^d^  /, 


>T^£s> 

^4v< 

^  ^^>// 


SESIT  : 

PREFATORY. 


THE  unprecedented  peculiarities  of  most  of  the 
verses  herein  contained  seem  to  be  warrant  enough 
for  their  collection  into  a  volume.  Doubtless  a  new 
Ars  poetica,  with  a  wholly  novel  subject  (though  nar- 
row), should  float  a  book,  if  it  be  not  otherwise  in- 
sufferably heavy. 

The  author-compiler  is  one  of  the  very  first  Bos- 
tonians  who,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1877,  began 
to  ride  and  write  into  notice  the  bicycle  in  this 
country.  A  few  words  also  seem  needful  here  in 
explanation  of  his  entering  upon  the  manufacture 
of  this  "machine  poetry," — such  in  a  fuller  sense  of 
the  term  than  it  ever  had  before. 

Under  the  early  exhilarating  effect  of  the  wiry 
transit,  in  a  sportive  communication  to  a  city  paper 
(the  Globe  of  Jan.  9,  '78)  he  called  upon  our  native 
poets,  naming  some  in  particular,  to  favor  us  with  a 
song  or  two  for  the  new  move,  declaring  that  its 


2  PREFATORY. 

peculiar  charms  and  potencies  deserved  and  awaited 
an  adequate  celebration.  Strange  to  say,  no  response 
to  this  invitation  was  forthcoming,  excepting  a  brief 
trifle  signed  O.  W.  H.  (now  on  p.  20  of  this  volume) 
in  the  same  paper  a  short  time  after.  Thanks  for 
small  favors ;  but,  in  the  opinion  of  the  present 
writer,  sustained  bursts  of  panegyrical  song  were 
needed  to  meet  the  demands  of  the  occasion  !  How 
to  get  them  ?  Having  little  confidence  in  his  own 
capacity  for  poetry,  he  sought  aid  through  the  old 
proverb  about  "  birds  that  can  sing  and  won't  sing," 
and  soon  hit  upon  the  surprising  discovery  that  the 
meaning  of  poems  can  be  extracted,  and  a  new 
one  substituted,  without  injuring  the  form.  So  the 
Chinese  will  vacuate  an  egg  or  an  orange  of  its 
original  contents,  fill  it  with  strange  confections, 
and  leave  no  discernible  break.  In  our  case  the 
diligent  artificer  sometimes  sees  opportunities  of  im- 
proving the  exterior  also.  From  trying  this  process 
upon  the  two  distinguished  poets  who  had  neglected 
his  modest  request,  the  writer  has  developed  the 
Bi-lyrical  Method,  and  extended  his  scheme  of  confis- 
cation over  the  whole  domain  of  available  song.  — 
"  Insatiate  Bicycler,  would  not  two  suffice  ?  "  says  the 


PREFATORY.  3 

gentle  reader.  Not  a  bit  of  it :  refused  a  little,  he 
will  ravage  much.  There  are,  however,  quite  a  num- 
ber of  pieces  radically  his  own,  which  the  proficient 
reader  will  easily  distinguish.  Nearly  all  have 
appeared  in  papers  of  this  city,  or  in  England,  and 
are  now  revised  and  improved. 

Mindful  of  the  fate  of  Marsyas,  and  that  of  the 
dilated  frog  in  the  fable,  he  presents  them  to  the 
reading  public,  who  should  kindly  make  due  allowance 
for  the  spirit  of  youth  and  the  Wheel ;  and  he  dedi- 
cates them  to  the  gathering  army  of  bicyclers  on 
this  continent,  with  the  motto, — 

3£ota  non  furor  brefcis  est 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

PREFATORY  i 

PRELUSIONS  FROM  THE  POETS 9 

THE  HARP  OF  ROTA n 

THE  OVER-CYCLES 12 

INITIAL  AND  CELESTIAL  CYCLING 14 

THE  TREAD-WHEEL  SONG 19 

THE  YOUTH  AND  THE  BICYCLE 20 

A  TOAST 21 

MY  BICYCLE 22 

TRANSLATIONS  VERY   MUCH   TRANSLATED   FROM   LONG- 
FELLOW :  — 

THE  CELESTIAL  CYCLER 25 

SONG  OF  THE  SILENT  WHEEL 27 

THE  CYCL^E  ON  THE  ROAD 29 

THE  EARTH  HATH  ITS  GEMS 30 

THE  WHEEL 31 

PEGASUS  IN  (ABOUT  40)  POUND 32 

THE  LADDER  OF  ST.  HYGEIA 34 

THE  STILLY  WHEEL 36 

BlCYCLICALISTHENICS 39 

YANKEE-LAND 40 


6  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

LAY  OF  THE  PEDESTRIAN 42 

THE  BICYCLE 43 

HASTE  NOT,  PAUSE  NOT 44 

THE  STEED  OF  FIRE 45 

BISAKEL 47 

GRAND  CHORUS 49 

OWED  TO  THE  BICYCLE 50 

THOSE  BICYCLES 51 

ANACREON  :    ODE  XXXIX 52 

ROTAL  POESY 53 

FROM  THE  GREEK 54 

THE  DANDY  BICYCLER 55 

LITTLE  Miss  LOQUITUR 56 

"Music"  ON  THE  WIRE 56 

ROTA  ANGLICA 58 

THE  WHEEL-SHOP 58 

CARMEN  BICYCLICUM 59 

FLEET  WHEEL 61 

WHAT  TO  Do 61 

His  FIRST  RIDE • .     .  62 

"  MORTALITY  "  ENLIVENED 63 

SONG  TO  BISAKEL 65 

WHERE  's  MY  JOHN  ? 66 

CAREFUL  SENIOR'S  SONG 68 

THE  PILGRIM 71 

THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  STUD 71 

THE  WHEELLESS 72 

A  HYMNLET 73 


CONTENTS.  7 

PAGE 

SOLILOQUY  OF  A  WARY  WOBBLER 74 

THE  PHANTOM  OF  DELIGHT    . 74 

IN  RUNNING'EM  £  Co.'s  SALESROOM 76 

HYGEIA'S  WHEEL 77 

A  MERRY  CAR 79 

ELDERS,  COME  UP 81 

To  MIDDEL  ACER,  ESQ 82 

WINTRY  MUSINGS 82 

ADAPTED  ODE 84 

"MY  LOVE,"  A  SPOOPSY  POEM 85 

A  HEADER 86 

ROTA  FELIX 87 

"GONDOLA"  MADE  BICYCLE 87 

RHYMES  OF  THE  ROAD 88 

SONNETS  BY  WHEELIAM  SHAKESPOKE:  — 

To  ABEL  ELDER 90 

THE  REASONS  WHY.    . 91 

To  BISAKEL 93 

THE  BICYCLER  ;  A  VAGARY 95 

CAMPBELL  UNDONE  AND  OUTDONE 96 

ALTA  CANENS 97 

APOLOGY 98 

NON  ASSUMPSIT 99 

WHEELY  THOUGHTS  AND  EJACULATIONS  :  — 

ROTALIS  EQUITATUS 100 

ARE  YOU  READY  ? 101 

SLICK  TRANSIT  GLORIA  BICYCLI    .......  102 

POEM  OF  THE  RIDE 104 


/^/w  s 

A^ 
/ 


PRELUSIONS  FROM  THE  POETS. 


In  seipso  totus  teres  atque  rotundus. 

HORACE. 

And  wondrous  was  his  way,  and  wondrous  was  his 
coach. 

COWLEY. 

Mighty  stage  of  mortal  scenes, 

Brest  with  strong  and  gay  machines. 

WATTS. 

Since  the  time  of  horse-consuls,  now  long  out  of  date, 

No  nags  ever  made  such  a  stir  in  the  state. 

MOORE. 

What  wondrous  new  machines  have  late  been  spin- 
ning ! 

BYRON. 

I  have  been 
On  friendly  terms  with  this  machine. 

WORDSWORTH. 

Sublime  on  radiant  wires  he  rode, 

To  draw  a  fame  so  truly  circular. 

DRYDEN. 

^£  s£*^£*7~  &G/~  '&. 


Now  proceed, 

And  sing  the  extension  of  the  iron  horse 
Made  by  John  Taurus  with  Minerva's  aid, 
And  by  the  safe  Cunarder  carefully 
Conveyed  unto  the  Bay  State  capital, 
Where  charmed  starters  of  its  boom  did  take 
The  city  taste.     And  I,  if  thou  relate 
The  story  rightly,  will  to  all  declare 
That  largely  hath  the  bounteous  god  of  ride 
Bestowed  on  thee  the  wheely  shift  of  song. 

[From  a  new  Odyssey,  B.  viii. :   Ulysses  to  the  minstrel  sage, 
Demodocus,  of  the  "  clear-toned  harp."J 


LYRA    BICYCLICA. 


THE   HARP   OF   ROTA. 

MORE  of  a  strain  than  merely  my 
Verse  sounds  the  iron  wheel  along : 

Caught  on  the  wings  of  wire  to  fly 
Above  the  pitch  of  single  song, 

Poe,  Moore,  and  Byron  tuneful  climb, 
Emerson's  native  graces  play, 

With  ring  of  Whitman's  chanting  chime 
And  gentle  Longman's  moral  lay. 

William  the  Great  me  visited  ! 

Drawn  to  the  glimpses  of  the  wheel ; 
Caesar  nor  Phoebus  had,  he  said, 

Car  fashioned  so,  "  in  complete  steel." 


12  THE   OVER-CYCLES. 

Full  many  more  were  coaxed  to  aid ; 

And  thus  a  middling  pen,  or  worse, 
On  lines  of  classic  models  made 

Diverted  and  diverting  verse. 

Some  bicycles  long  since  had  birth 
Ere  Coventry  so  many  named 

And  raised  new  ridings  o'er  the  earth 
On  those  gay  rollers  greatly  framed. 

Vain  was  the  brief  boneshakers'  ride, 
They  had  no  go-it,  and  they  died. 

In  vain  they  seemed,  inane  they  fled ; 
They  made  no  poet,  and  are  dead. 


THE    OVER-CYCLES. 

BY    R.   W.    E.  +  D. 

Lo  !  New  England  answers  Old. 
Walker,  break  this  sloth  urbane ; 
A  Wheeling  voice  bids  be  uprolled 
Misty  gray  dreams  which  thee  detain. 


THE   OVER-CYCLES.  13 

Mark  how  the  climbing  cycle-boys 

Beckon  thee  to  all  their  joys, 

Horsed  on  a  tipsy  hoop  of  steel  — 

Pedepulsion  on  a  wheel. 

Youth,  by  a  "  mount "  make  free  thy  way, 

Teach  thy  feet  to  feel  the  pedal, 

Ere  yet  arrives  the  wintry  day 

Time  with  thy  feet  shall  meddle. 

Accept  the  bounty  of  the  high  cycle, 

Taste  the  lordship  of  the  bicycle. 

Oh,  what  is  the  cause  metaphysical 
Past  ages  have  scarce  met  a  bicycle  — 

That  Menu  and  Plato, 

And  Plutarch  and  Cato, 
Should  have  seldom  bestridden  the  bicycle  ? 
The  Sphinx  don't  know  nothing  about  'em; 
Monadnoc  inclineth  to  doubt  'em ; 
Bold  Caesar  went  onward  without  'em  • 

But  how  Eze-kiel 

Often  plieth  "  the  wheel  "  ! 
Have  the  prophets  best  ridden  the  bicycle  ? 


14       INITIAL  AND   CELESTIAL   CYCLING. 

INITIAL  AND    CELESTIAL   CYCLING. 

A   PARODY-MOSAIC. 

I. 

BICYCLIC  knights  I  often  spy, 
On  horse  uncarnate  riding  by ; 
Nimbly  they  scale  his  vaulty  back, 
And  spin  along  the  travelled  track. 
I  see  men  go  up  and  down, 
In  the  country  and  the  town, 
Who  on  two  wheels  throned  sedate 
Have  not  hazarded  their  state : 
With  speedful  limbs  and  agile  toes 
Lusty  Juventus  circling  goes, 
And  Oldster's  legs,  aware  of  wane, 
Revivify  and  dance  again. 
They  are  there  for  benefit ; 
They  are  there  from  drudging  quit, 
And  Wisdom  journeying  on  the  road 
Daily  stops  to  view  their  mode. 

On  pedalian  pinions  fleeting, 

See  them  twirl  the  witching  wheel, 


INITIAL  AND   CELESTIAL   CYCLING.       15 

Orb-libration's  magic  beating 
In  the  tense  and  vibrant  steel. 
My  soul  the  mystic  carol  sings 
Of  those  silent  circling  wings  : 
It  is  ever  the  self-same  tale, 
The  first  experience  will  not  fail ; 
Only  two  in  the  garden  walked, 
And  with  snake  and  seraph  talked  : 
Cycles  only  two  are  twirled, 
Yet  how  steadfastly  they  run, 
To  the  cadence  of  the  whirling  world 
That  dances  round  the  sun. 
Unheeded  Danger  near  him  strides, 
He  laughs  that  on  bicycle  rides. 

I  bend  my  fancy  to  their  leading, 
All  too  nimble  for  my  treading ; 
My  metric  feet  are  no  account 
To  lift  me  to  their  wheely  mount, 
And  much  revolving  in  my  mind 
Turns  up  no  chance  of  seat  behind. 
Keen  my  sense,  my  heart  was  young, 
Right  good-will  my  sinews  strung, 
But  no  speed  of  mine  avails 
To  hunt  upon  their  narrow  trails ; 


1 6       INITIAL  AND   CELESTIAL   CYCLING. 

Fleetest  couriers  alive, 

Never  yet  could  I  arrive. 

Sometimes  their  strong  speed  they  slacken, 

Though  they  are  not  overtaken ; 

On  and  away,  their  hasting  feet 

Make  the  morning  proud  and  sweet : 

Bright  on  the  cheeks  of  gay  and  staid 

The  rose  of  action  burns ; 

Though  breeches  wear,  and  coats  may  fade, 

Immortal  youth  returns. 

II. 

The  soul  regards  with  equal  ken 
The  dancing  Pleiads  and  our  frolic  men. 
Bird,  that  from  the  nadir's  floor 
To  the  zenith  top  can  soar, 
Light  rides  the  arch  of  night  and  noon, 
Bicycling  on  the  sun  and  moon ; 
So  orbit  of  the  muse  exceeds 
All  such  as  now  we  erring  own, 
Which  seeming  firm  mechanic  steeds, 
Are  shadows  flitting  up  and  down. 
Spirit  that  lurks  such  form  within 
Beckons  to  spirit  in  the  skin  ; 


INITIAL  AND   CELESTIAL   CYCLING.       I/ 

Self-kindled  every  semblance  glows, 
And  hints  the  future  which  it  owes. 
Hear  you  then,  bicycle  fellows, 
Fits  not  to  be  over-zealous ; 
Steeds  not  to  work  on  the  clean  jump, 
Nor  wind  nor  heart  perpetual  pump. 

Profounder  and  higher 
Man's  spirit  must  strive ; 
To  his  aye-rolling  orbit 
No  goal  will  arrive  ; 
The  cycles  that  now  draw  him 
With  fleetness  untold, 
Once  known,  —  for  new  cycles 
He  spurneth  the  old. 

Deep  lore  lieth  under 
These  circlets  of  time ; 
They  melt  in  the  light  of 
Their  meaning  sublime. 
Love  works  at  the  axle, 
Beholdeth  the  way ; 
Forth  speed  the  strong  pulses 
To  the  borders  of  day. 


1 8       INITIAL  AND   CELESTIAL   CYCLING. 

Loftier  rounds,  a  purer  air, 
Ye  shall  climb  on  the  heavenly  stair ; 
Your  reach  shall  yet  be  more  profound, 
And  a  vista  without  bound  ; 
The  axis  of  the  wheels  you  steer 
Be  the  axis  of  the  sphere, 
And  the  lustre  and  the  grace 
Which  fascinate  each  youthful  heart, 
Beam  from  cosmic  counterpart 
Translucent  through  immortal  face, 
Where  they  that  swiftly  come  and  go 
Leave  no  track  on  the  heavenly  snow. 

Upward,  higher  far, 

Over  sun  and  star, 

Thou  must  learn  to  mount, 

Into  vision  where  all  form 

In  one  only  form  dissolves ; 

In  a  region  where  the  wheel 

On  which  all  beings  ride 

Visibly  revolves ; 

Where  the  starred  eternal  worm 

Girds  the  \vorld  with  bound  and  term. 


THE   TREAD-WHEEL  SONG.  19 

THE    TREAD-WHEEL   SONG. 

ADAPTED   FROM   HOLMES. 

THE  stars  are  rolling  in  the  sky, 

The  earth  rolls  on  below, 
And  we  can  feel  our  twinkling  wheel 

Revolving  as  we  go. 
Then  tread  away,  my  gallant  boys, 

And  make  the  axle  fly ; 
Why  should  not  we  go  rotiform, 

Like  planets  in  the  sky  ? 

Wake  up,  come  up,  you  walking  men, 

And  stir  your  heavy  pegs  ; 
Arouse,  arise,  my  gawky  friend, 

And  ply  your  spider  legs  ! 
What  tho'  you  're  awkward  at  the  first, 

'Most  any  one  can  learn  — 
So  hold  upon  the  handles,  man, 

And  take  another  turn. 

They  Ve  built  us  up  a  noble  steed 
To  beat  the  vulgar  rout ; 


20        THE    YOUTH  AND    THE  BICYCLE. 

The  motion  is  almost  the  same 

As  just  to  walk  about. 
You  're  seated  on  horseback  afoot, 

To  speed  your  distant  ends ; 
Beside  the  pleasant  rolling  round 

Among  one's  honest  friends. 

Mark,  fellows,  't  is  a  Traveller, 

And  useful  work  is  done, 
As  well  as  on  its  spinning  wings 

To  fly  around  for  fun. 
You  '11  say,  when  our  revolving  colt 

You  shall  have  better  known, 
"  Now,  hang  me,  but  I  must  have  one 

Bicycle  of  my  own  !  " 


THE   YOUTH   AND   THE    BICYCLE. 

A  CERTAIN  young  man,  for  his  physical, 
Has  been  out  and  bought  him  a  bicycle ; 
He  is  careless  and  rash, 
And  it's  treating  him  "hash," 
This  hasty  young  man  on  his  bicycle. 


A    TOAST.  21 

Says  he,  you  acephalous  bicycle, 
I  shall  fling  you  away  for  a  tricycle, 

Have  a  tertium  quid, 

Or  it  cannot  be  rid, 
Says  hasty  young  man  off  his  bicycle. 

o.  w.  H. 


A   TOAST. 

HOLMES   PLUS    D. 

BlBAMUS    AD    PRIMUM    BlCYCLICUM    CLUB, 
IN    URBE    EORUM    GUI    NOMEN    EST    "  HUB  "  j 

ET  FLOREANT,  VALEANT,  VOLITANT  TAM, 
NON  PEIRCIUS  IPSE  ENUMERET  QUAM. 

Englished,  freely. 

HERE'S  luck  to  the  pioneer  Bicycle  Club, 
That  starts  in  the  place  entitled  the  Hub ; 
May  their  growth,'  example,  and  circling  be  such, 
Not  Peirce's  own  chalk  can  reckon  how  much. 


22  MY  BICYCLE. 

MY    BICYCLE. 

BY  JAGY   TORLTON. 
He  cadgily  ranted  and  sang.  —  Old  Song. 

WHAT  spins  around  "  like  all  git  out," 

And  swiftly  carries  me  about,  — 

So  light,  so  still,  so  bright  and  stout  ? 

My  Bicycle. 

Regard  me  now  where  I  sit  high  on 

Nag  forty  pound  of  mostly  iron  ; 

And  don't  you  wish  that  you  might  try  on 

My  Bicycle  ? 

Monstrum  informe,  ingens  !  some 
Cry,  seeing  first  this  courser  come. 
Our  "  fine  knee-action  "  strikes  them  dumb, 

My  Bicycle ! 

Calling  him  monster  from  the  east, 
And  both  a  lean  and  fatuous  beast, 
You  comprehend  not  in  the  least 

My  Bicycle. 


MY  BICYCLE.  23 

Revolve  it  in  your  mind,  and  my  way 
Will  show  to  be  a  more  than  guy  way  — 
High  way  of  riding  on  the  highway  — 

My  Bicycle. 

Those  now  who  stand  and  stare  and  say, 
O,  " parce  nobis,  s*il  vous plait" 
Will  beg  to  tread,  another  day, 

My  Bicycle. 

What  tho'1  Hans  Breitmann  did,  almost, 
And  Schnitzerlein  gave  up  the  ghost  ? 
'T  was  all  because  they  could  n't  boast 

My  Bicycle. 

And  saying  mine,  I  do  not  mean 
There  are  not  many  others  seen 
Who  ride  like  me  on  my  machine, 

My  Bicycle. 

I  'm  not  stuck  up,  tho'  seated  high ; 
To  ride,  at  once,  and  run  and  fly  — 
My  pride  is  so  to  travel  by 

My  Bicycle. 


24  MY  BICYCLE. 

Who  will  may  head  with  learning  stow, 
I  work  the  light,  ped-antic  toe  — 
'T  is  cyclopedic  lore  to  know 

My  Bicycle. 

And  when  the  saddled  arc  I  span, 
What  care  I  for  the  fall  of  man  ? 
Let  him  remount !  I  always  can 

My  Bicycle. 

All  the  mutations  I  discern 

Of  men  and  States  not  me  concern, 

While  I  avoid  to  overturn 

My  Bicycle. 

See  Russia  rotten  Turkey  eat  — 
And  John  Bull  in  a  stewing  heat ; 
We  have  a  better  kind  of  meet, 

My  Bicycle. 

Then  hurry  spokes  and  spokesman  too, 
We  only  have  an  hour  or  so, 
And  almost  twenty  miles  to  go, 

My  Bicycle. 


THE   CELESTIAL   CYCLER.  2$ 


TRANSLATIONS    VERY  MUCH  TRANS- 
LATED FROM  LONGFELLOW. 


THE    CELESTIAL    CYCLER. 

FROM    DANTE. 

SCENE,  Coast  near  Boston. 

AND  now,  behold  !  as  at  the  approach  of  morning 
Through  the  gross  vapors,  Sol  grows  fiery  round, 
Down  in  the  east  upon  the  ocean  floor, 

Appeared  to  me,  —  I  may  alway  behold  it !  — 
A  wheel  along  the  sea,  so  swiftly  coming, 
Its  motion  by  no  flight  of  wing  is  equalled. 

And  when  therefrom  I  had  withdrawn  a  little 
Mine  eyes,  that  I  might  question  Mr.  W-st-n, 
Again  I  saw  it  brighter  grown  and  larger. 


*  I  saw  from  the  beach,  when  the  morning  was  shining, 
A  -wheel  o'er  the  waters  move  gloriously  on.  —  MOORE. 


26  THE   CELESTIAL   CYCLER. 

Then  on  each  side  of  it  appeared  to  me 
I  knew  not  what  of  legs,  and  underneath, 
Little,  so  little !  there  came  forth  another. 

My  mentor  yet  had  uttered  not  a  word, 

While  the  first  brightness  into  wheels  unfolded  ; 

But,  when  he  clearly  recognized  the  chariot, 

He  cried  aloud:  "Learn,  quick,  to  bow  the  knee 
And  hold  the  handles  !  Now,  get  up  thy  spunk  ! 
Henceforward  shalt  thou  see  such  bicyclers  ! 

"  See,  how  he  scorns  all  common  arguments, 
So  that  no  horse  he  wants,  nor  other  speed 
Than  his  own  wheels,  between  all  distant  points. 

"  See,  how  he  holds  them,  pointed  straight  to  Boston ! 

Fanning  the  air  with  the  bicyclic  pinions, 

That  do  not  moult  themselves  like  mortal  hair." 

Then,  as  still  nearer  and  more  near  us  came 
The  Bird  of  Britain,  more  glorious  he  appeared 
On  that  —  the  eye  could  not  endure  his  presence  ; 


SONG   OF  THE   SILENT   WHEEL.         2*J 

But  down  he  cast  him,  and  he  came  to  ground 
By  a  small  footstep,  gliding  swift  and  light, 
So  that  the  cycles  wobbled  not  thereby. 

Upon  the  strand  stood  Bisakel  the  Angel ! 

Beatitude  seemed  written  in  his  face  ! 

And  more  than  wine-red  spirits  shone  within. 

"  In  exitu  the  Yankees  out  of  Walking !  " 
Thus  sang  we  three  together  in  one  voice, 
Like  whatso  in  that  Psalm  of  old  is  written. 

Then  made  he  sign  of  wheely  rood  upon  us ; 
Whereat  we  took  the  horse-car  for  the  town, 
And  he  sped  onward  swiftly  as  he  came. 


SONG   OF   THE    SILENT   WHEEL. 

UPON  the  Silent  Wheel  ! 

Ha !  who  shall  lift  us  thither  ? 

Life  in  its  middle  term  begins  to  wither, 

And  shaky  shanks  are  thinner  to  the  feel. 


28         SONG   OF  THE  SILENT  WHEEL. 

Who  leads  us  with  a  gentle  zeal 
Thither  —  and  whither  ? 
Upon  the  silent  Wheel  ? 

Upon  the  silent  wheel, 

Out  over  boundless  regions 

Of  equitation  !     Send  the  mounting  legions 

Of  youthful  souls,  the  future's  pledge  of  weal. 

Who  miles  on  axles  firm  can  reel, 

Shall  be  Health's  carrier  pigeons, 

Upon  the  silent  wheel ! 

On  WHEEL  and  wheel, 

To  all  the  book-besotted, 

The  eldest  heralds  of  the  gait  allotted 

Beckon,  and  with  reverted  looks  appeal, 

To  lead  us  with  a  gentle  zeal 

Into  the  seat  of  the  great  imported, 

Upon  the  silent  wheel ! 


THE   CYCLE   ON  THE  ROAD.  29 

THE   CYCLE    ON    THE    ROAD. 

"  HAST  thou  seen  that  lordly  cycle, 

That  Cycle  on  the  Road  ? 
Boldly  and  glad  above  it 

The  lads  float  a  la  mode. 

"  And  fain  it  would  flop  downward 

To  the  pebbled  road  below ; 
And  fain  it  would  sweep  onward 

With  the  fleeting  rims  aglow." 

"  Well  have  I  seen  that  cycle, 

That  Cycle  on  the  Road, 
And  the  lads  above  it  treading, 

And  the  dust  rise  as  they  trode." 

"  The  wheels  and  the  boys  of  Boston, 

Had  they  a  merry  time  ? 
Didst  thou  hear,  from  those  lofty  saddles, 

The  sharp  of  their  whistles'  chime  ?  " 

"  The  wheels  and  the  boys  of  Boston, 
They  came  back  quietly ; 


30          THE  EARTH  HATH  ITS  GEMS. 

Tho'  I  heard  on  the  gale  no  sound  of  wail, 
The  tears  came  to  mine  eye." 

"  Sped  they  not  back  in  rapture, 

Talking  of  their  royal  ride  ? 
Resplendent  as  the  morning  sun, 

Beaming  with  ruddy  pride  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  saw  the  young  bicyclers, 
With  dust  from  crown  to  sandals ; 

They  were  moving  slow,  in  weeds  of  woe  — 
Had  been  flung  over  their  handles  !  " 


THE  EARTH    HATH    ITS    GEMS. 

THE  earth  hath  its  gems, 
The  heaven  hath  its  stars ; 

But  my  heart,  my  heart, 
My  heart  hath  its  wheel. 

Great  are  the  earth  and  the  heaven  ; 

Yet  greater  is  my  heart, 
And  fairer  than  gems  and  stars 

Flashes  and  beams  my  wheel. 


THE    WHEEL.  31 

Thou  little  youth,  and  man,  then, 

Come  unto  my  great  heart ; 
My  heart,  and  the  earth,  and  the  heaven, 

Are  fleeting  away  with  wheels. 


THE    WHEEL. 

"  WHITHER,  on  whirling  wheel  ? 
Whither,  with  so  much  haste, 
As  if  a  thief  thou  wert  ? " 

"  I  have  the  Wheel  of  life ; 
Soiled  with  my  city's  dust, 
From  the  struggle  and  the  strife 
Of  the  narrow  street  I  fly 
To  the  Road's  felicity, 
To  clear  from  me  the  frown 
Of  the  moody  toil  of  town." 

(End  of  Translations.) 


32       PEGASUS  IN  (ABOUT  40)    POUND. 


PEGASUS    IN    (ABOUT  40)    POUND. 
Dies  rotce,  dies  ilia. 

ONCE  into  a  quiet  city, 

Without  taste  and  without  feed, 
In  the  golden  prime  of  Autumn, 

Came  the  Briton's  iron  steed. 

Thereupon,  to  that  age  common, 
From  the  school-boys  was  abuse ; 

But  the  wise  men,  in  their  wisdom, 
Put  him  straightway  into  use. 

Then  two  morning  city  papers 
Both  allowed  his  praises  well  — 

Dealers  down  the  street  proclaiming 
There  were  bicycles  to  sell. 

And  the  curious  city  people, 

Rich  and  poor,  and  old  and  young, 

Came  in  haste  to  see  this  wondrous 
Wheely  steed,  with  wire  strung. 


PEGASUS  IN  (ABOUT  40)   POUND.       33 

Patiently  and  still,  expectant, 

Waited  he  of  flighty  limb, 
For  disporting  far  his  pinions 

In  the  triumph  meant  for  him. 

Then  with  circuits  wide  extended, 
Breaking  up  their  toil  and  care, 

Lo,  the  strange  steed  late  imported, 
Was  familiar  everywhere. 

And  they  found  within  th'  Eleventh  Ward, 
Where  the  cycling  club  had  meets, 

Pure  and  bright  example  flowing 
From  the  wheeling  in  the  streets. 

From  that  hour,  the  horse  unfailing 
Gladdens  the  whole  region  round, 

Strengthening  all  who  sit  his  saddle, 
While  he  bears  them  without  sound. 


34          THE  LADDER   OF  ST.  HYGEIA. 
THE   LADDER   OF   ST,   HYGEIA. 

MR.   SOXGFELLOW,    ASSISTED  TO   NEW   ALTITUDES. 

WELL,  Saint  Hygeia,  have  they  said 
That,  of  devices  we  can  frame, 

Your  bicycle  is  best  to  tread 
For  following  up  a  healthy  aim. 

All  common  folk  to  elevate, 

Who  wish  to  quicken  and  amend  — 

Its  flight  of  steps,  that  rolling  gait, 
Are  rounds  by  which  they  may  ascend. 

The  low-back  ones,  the  base  design, 
That  make  had  many  virtues  less; 

Its  revels  here  in  'Sixty-nine 
Were  all  occasions  of  excess. 

The  longing  for  big  noble  things, 
The  time  for  triumph,  now  ensu'th, 

With  hardening  of  the  hand  that  brings 
Persistence  in  the  ways  of  youth. 


THE  LADDER   OF  ST.   HYGEIA.          35 

Small  draughts  of.  ale  —  small  beers,  we  need, 
That  have  their  roots  in ;  cause  no  reel, 

And  never  wobble  nor  impede 
The  action  of  the  sober  wheel. 

Treadles  must  now  be  trampled  down 
Beneath  our  feet,  that  we  may  gain 

In  the  bright  roads  of  every  town 
The  right  of  evident  domain  ! 

Having  no  wings,  we  cannot  soar ; 

But  we  have  feet  and  hands  to  climb 
By  due  degrees,  by  more  and  more, 

The  saddled  summits  of  our  time. 

The  mighty  bicycles  of  John 

Bull  wedge-like  cleave  the  suburb  airs ; 
When  nearer  seen,  to  gad  upon, 

They  are  like  antic  flights  of  stairs 

O  'er  distant  green  hills  that  uprear 
Their  rounded  backs  toward  the  skies, 

Crossing  by  roadways  that  appear 
As  we  to  higher  levels  rise. 


36  THE  STILLY  WHEEL. 

The  seats  bicyclers  reached  and  kept, 
Were  not  secured  by  sudden  flight ; 

But  they,  while  their  companions  crept, 
Were  toiling  —  tumbling  left  and  right. 

Walking  is  what  was  long  a  bore 
WTith  persons  bent  on  exercise ; 

We  now  discern,  unseen  before, 
The  steps  to  higher  destinies. 

Nor  deem  the  boneshaker  of  the  past 
Is  wholly  wasted,  wholly  vain, 

As  rising  on  the  Arch  at  last, 
To  cycling  nobler  we  attain. 


THE    STILLY    WHEEL. 

BY  MR.    LONGFELLOE. 

Auspice  Hygeta,  et  sine  labe  perfecttis. 

NOWHERE  such  a  previous  steed, 
Not  in  fancy — even,  indeed, 
'Zekiel  saw  no  wheels  with  brake 
Linked  together  in  their  make. 


THE  STILLY  WHEEL.  37 

Man  on  little  leather  shelf  — 
Ever  balancing  itself, 
Goes  the  wheel  so  still  and  fast 
That  it  hardly  seems  to  haste. 

Never  charioteer  of  old, 
On  his  oaken  axle  rolled, 
Such  a  course  erect  pursued 
Through  the  gazing  multitude. 

Never  school-boy  in  his  zest 
For  all  spinning  things  the  best, 
Top,  or  hoop,  or  sling,  came  out 
Wandering  whirling  thus  about. 

As  the  mirror  of  its  ride, 
People  thickly  on  each  side 
Hang  converted,  and  between 
Floating  fly  the  lads  serene. 

Hawk  or  eagle  on  the  wing 
Seems  the  only  travelling 
Like  to  one  who  laughs  and  flies 
On  those  wheels'  contrasted  size. 


38  THE  STILLY  WHEEL. 

Silent  wheel !  that  Indian  mood 
Fame  has  not  misunderstood ; 
For  thou  glidest  not  alone, 
111  content  to  be  unknown. 

And  thy  transits  softly  teach 
Wisdom  more  than  human  speech, 
Speeding  without  toil  or  noise 
In  unshaken  equipoise. 

Though  it  turneth  no  busy  mill, 
Yet,  so  stirring  and  so  still, 
Gives  some  moving  words  to  say 
To  the  traveller  on  his  way : 

"  Traveller,  hurrying  from  the  heat 
Of  the  city,  play  thy  feet ! 
Ride  a  wheel,  nor  longer  waste 
Life  with  inconsiderate  taste. 

"  Go  not  with  the  crowd  that  crawls 
Where  the  rattling  horse-car  hauls, 
Sit  the  quiet  nag  of  steel, 
Link  together  wheel  and  weal." 


BICYCLICALISTHENICS.  39 


BICYCLICALISTHENICS. 

BY   LONGFELLOW   ET   AL. 

O  GRACEFUL  one  that  fleetest  on,  thy  pace 
Is  an  aerial  promenade,  and  thy  form 
Goes  poised  as  if  it  floated  on  the  air, 
With  the  soft  ambulating  gait  of  one 
Who  timeth  all  his  motions  to  a  measure ! 
And  has  Prometheus,  say,  has  he  again 
Been  stealing  fire  from  Helios'  chariot-wheels 
To  light  bicycles  with,  and  make  them  spin  ? 
Who  thinks  of  bicycling  hath  already  taken 
One  step  upon  the  way  to  eminence  : 
Such  altitudes  delight  me  —  /  will  launch 
On  the  sustaining  wire,  nor  fear  to  fall 
Like  Icarus,  nor  serve  myself  like  him 
Who  drove  awry  Hyperion's  fiery  steeds. 
O  fortunate,  O  happy  day, 
When  a  new  cycle  bears  its  load 
Among  the  myriad  wheels  of  earth  j 
Like  a  young  moon  just  spun  to  birth, 


40  YANKEE-LAND. 

It  rolls  on  its  harmonious  way 
Into  the  boundless  realms  of  road ! 

NOTE.  —  In  my  first  versions  of  some  of  the  pieces  in  this  volume 
the  effort  of  the  joke  was,  obviously,  to  make  each  poet  sing  the  bicycle 
as  nearly  as  might  be  in  his  own  very  words,  which  was  curiously  pos- 
sible, especially  in  those  from  Longfellow.  That  aim  became  afterward 
but  a  secondary  one,  and  much  is  now  altered  accordingly.  The  cutting 
line  of  the  young  man  at  one  of  the  hotels  lately,  in  — 

"Quotation  marks  are  here  as  thickly  strewn 
As  ought  to  be  in  some  poems  having  none," 

does  not  apply  to  the  Bi-lyrical  muse ;  though  such  disfigurement  might 
pass  in  much  simplistic  and  mere  walking  poetry,  or  the  sort  he  was 
reading  on  that  occasion. 

It  is  quite  surprising  how  easily  and  largely  the  verse  of  our  most 
artistic  poet  yielded  itself  to  my  designs. 

'  Longfellowing  rolls  the  boom  of  the  white-nickeled  wheel.' 


YANKEE-LAND. 

Novus  ordo  cydorum. 

THE  destined  wheel  is  on  thy  shore, 

Yankeeland ! 
Its  perch  is  at  thy  ample  door, 

Yankeeland ! 

Ascend  the  gay  exotic  goer 
That  flashed  the  streets  of  Boston  o'er, 
And  beat  the  boneshaker  of  yore, 

Yankeeland,  my  Yankeeland ! 


YANKEE-LAND.  41 

Hark  to  the  wondering  son's  appeal, 

Yankeeland ! 
"  My  mother  dear,  I  want  a  wheel," 

Yankeeland  ! 

For  life  and  health,  for  "go  "  and  weal, 
Thy  beardless  cavalry  reveal, 
And  speed  their  beauteous  limbs  with  steel ! 

Yankeeland,  my  Yankeeland ! 

They  must  not  tumble  in  the  dust, 

Yankeeland ! 
Their  beaming  steel  should  never  rust, 

Yankeeland ! 

That  slender  firmness  you  may  trust 
Like  slender  blades  in  warlike  thrust 
Held  by  those  numbered  with  the  just, 

Yankeeland,  my  Yankeeland ! 

Come,  for  the  wheel  is  bright  and  strong, 

Yankeeland ! 
Come,  for  thy  carriance  does  thee  wrong, 

Yankeeland  ! 
Come  for  thy  young  bard  in  the  throng, 


42  LAV  OF  THE  PEDESTRIAN. 

Who  stalks  with  levity  along, 
And  gives  a  new  key  to  much  song, 
Yankeeland,  my  Yankeeland  ! 


LAY   OF   THE   PEDESTRIAN. 

Stet  quicunque  volet,  potens 
Rota  culmine  lubrico.  —  SENECA. 

TURN,  Cycler,  turn  thy  wheel  and  lower  the  proud  ; 

Turn  thy  still  wheel  past  steeds  and  coaches  loud  ; 

Thy  wheel  and  thee  we  rather  like  than  hate. 

Turn,  Cycler,  turn  thy  wheel  long  miles  from  town  ; 
With  that  high  wheel  we  go  not  up  —  or  down ; 
Our  speed  is  little,  but  our  prudence  great. 

Smile  we  to  see  you  up  in  many  lands  ; 
Down,  and  we  smile,  sure  of  our  feet  and  hands ; 
That  wheel  we  ride  not,  nor  deride,  but  wait. 

Turn,  turn  thy  wheel  above  the  walking  crowd  ; 
Thy  wheel  and  thou  are  greater  than  the  proud  ; 
Thy  wheel  and  thee  we  rather  like  than  hate. 


THE  BICYCLE.  43 

THE    BICYCLE. 

A.  T.  +D. 

SURE  never  yet  was  any  heel 

Could  flit  so  lightly  by. 
Keep  off,  or  else  my  bicycle 

Will  hit  you  coming  nigh. 

How  lightly  whirls  the  bicycle  ! 

How  fiery-like  you  fly ! 
Go,  get  you  one  ;  this  ticklish  wheel 

Be  taught  before  you  try. 

Thou  darest  —  give  me  now  to  reel 

The  rapid  miles,  or  die. 
There,  take  it,  take  my  bicycle 

And  break  your  neck  thereby. 


UP  !  and  the  dusty  race 
That  sat  in  horse-cars  long  — 
Be  swift  their  feet  as  antelopes, 
And  as  steam-engine  strong. 


44  HASTE  NOT,  PAUSE  NOT. 

HASTE    NOT,    PAUSE    NOT. 

NEWLY  TRANSLATED  FROM  OLD  GOEASY  (OFTEN  SPELT 

GOETHE). 

WITHOUT  pause,  without  haste  ! 
Print  the  motto  in  thy  breast ; 
Bear  it  with  you  as  a  spell 
When  you  ride  the  bicycle. 
Cobblestones  may  bring  you  down  — 
Bear  right  onward  out  of  town. 

Haste  not !     Let  no  reckless  deed 
Mar  for  aye  the  slender  steed. 
Balance  well,  and  keep  the  right, 
Onward  then  with  all  delight. 
Haste  not !     Years  may  ne'er  atone 
For  one  "  nasty  cropper  "  done. 

Pause  not !    Teams  are  sweeping  by ; 
Tumble  there  not,  lest  you  die. 
Nothing  mighty  and  sublime 
Thus  to  fall  before  your  time. 
Glorious  't  is  to  live  to  ride, 
While  these  forms  of  ours  abide. 


THE  STEED   OF  FIRE.  45 

Haste  not,  pause  not !     Calmly  sit ; 
Meekly  bear  a  front  of  grit. 
Heed  not  boys  that  cry  thee  "  Whoa, 
Emma"  —  let  them  see  thee  go. 
Duly  wag  thy  pivot  guide, 
Take  the  right,  whatever  betide. 
Haste  not,  pause  not !     Trials  past, 
Health  shall  crown  thy  work  at  last. 


THE  STEED  OF    FIRE. 
FROM  POE'S   "ELDORADO"  —  FABLED  GOLDEN  MADE 

TRUE    STEEL. 

SOBERLY  dight, 

A 'modern  knight 
Upon  a  hack  of  hire 

Had  journeyed  long 

Singing  a  song 
In  search  of  a  steed  of  fire. 

But  he  grew  old, 
This  knight,  tho'  bold, 


46  THE  STEED   OF  FIRE. 

With  o'er  his  heart  a  dire 
Dump  as  he  found 
Nothing  around 

That  looked  like  a  steed  of  fire. 


And  as  his  strength 
Waned,  he  at  length 

Met  a  breveting  flyer : 
"  Flyer,"  said  he, 
"  What !  can  it  be  — 

Can  this  be  the  steed  of  fire  ?  " 

"  Upon  this  mount 

We  surely  count, 
JT  is  all  you  can  desire  j 

Ride,  boldly  ride," 

Cycler  replied, 
"  If  you  seek  for  a  steed  of  fire  !  " 

He  dried  his  tears, — 

And  shed  his  years, 
All  on  the  windy  wire  ; 

And  sweeps  along 

Singing  much  song 
In  praise  of  the  steed  of  fire. 


BISAKEL.  47 

BISAKEL. 

"  ISRAFEL,"    BY  POE,  RECAST  FOR   A    NEW   ROLL. 

The  angel  Bisakel,  whose  wings  are  wheels,  has  the  fleetest  pace  of 
all  God's  creatures.  —  Koran. 

IN  heaven  a  spirit  doth  dwell 

Whose  great  wing  is  a  wheel. 
None  fly  so  wildly  well 
As  the  angel  Bisakel, 
And  the  giddy  stars,  so  legends  say, 
Slowing  their  course,  attend  the  play 

Of  his  wondrous  heel. 

Maturing  her  age, 

In  her  highest  noon, 

The  enamelled  moon 
Reddens  with  rage, 

And  to  witness,  with  misgivin', 
(With  the  nautic  Pleiads  even, 

More  than  seven,) 

Pauses  in  heaven. 

And  they  say  (the  starry  choir 
And  the  other  gossiping  things) 


BISAKEL. 


That  Bisakeli's  fire 
Is  owing  to  that  tire 

O'er  which  he  sits  and  slings 
The  trembling  living  wire 

Of  those  unusual  wings. 


But  surely  that  angel  trod 

Treadles  amazing  footy  ; 
And,  for  a  grown-up  god, 

There  the  Houris'  eyeballs  are 
His  axle  bearings  —  beauty 

Transports  faster  than  a  star  ! 

The  ecstasies  he  took 

With  such  rolling  orbs  to  deal  — 

His  leg  and  style,  his  pure  caoutchouc, 
With  the  fervor  of  his  wheel  — 
Well  may  the  stars  go  reel  ! 

We  say  thou  art  not  wrong, 

Bisakeli,  who  despisest 
Feathers  and  psalming  song  ; 
Bloom  thou  the  laurels  among, 

Best  angel  and  the  wisest,  — 
Merrily  live,  and  long! 


GRAND   CHORUS.  49 

—  Ah,  heaven  is  his'n,  indeed  ; 

This  world  is  sweets  and  sours ; 

Our  powers  are  puny  powers, 
And  the  slowest  of  his  perfect  speed 

Is  the  swiftest  of  ours. 

If  I  could  dwell 
Where  Bisakel 

Hath  dwelt,  and  he  where  I, 
He  might  not  spin  so  wildly  well 

Our  mortal  wheelery, 
While  a  better  song  than  now  might  swell 

From  my  lyre  within  the  sky  — 

But  —  how  is  this  "  for  hi?h  "  ? 


GRAND  CHORUS. 

J.   D.    +   D. 

AT  last  great  Bisakeli  came, 
Inventor  of  the  rotal  frame ; 
The  fleet  enthusiast,  from  his  starry  store, 

Enlarged  the  former  rattling  rounds, 
And  added  height  to  hushed  sounds, 
4 


SO  OWED   TO   THE  BICYCLE. 

With  Britain's  mother-wit,  and  arts  unknown  before. 
His  new  machine  deserves  the  prize, 
To  that  award  the  crown  ; 
It  raises  mortals  toward  the  skies, 
And  draws  an  angel  down. 


OWED   TO   THE   BICYCLE. 
(AND  PAID  IN  ALTERED  NOTES  FROM  TOM  MOORE.) 

IT  came  o'er  the  sea, 
My  Cycle  to  me, 

Came  thro'  sunshine,  storm,  and  snows ; 
Rubber  and  steel, 
This,  the  true  wheel, 
Turns  the  same  where'er  it  goes. 
Tho'  fate  may  frown,  so  I  ride  and  fall  not, 
'T  is  life  on  the  wing,  a  life  that  can  pall  not. 
Thou  cam'st  o'er  the  sea, 
Bicycle,  to  me, 

Came  whence  chilly  our  east  wind  blows ; 
Seas  may  congeal, 
But  the  true  wheel 
Turns  the  same  where'er  it  goes. 


THOSE  BICYCLES.  51 

Was  not  the  sea 
Made  to  bring  thee  ? 
Land  for  roads  and  rides  alone  ? 
Once  walking  slaves, 
Cycle  us  saves,  — 
Wheel  and  liberty  's  all  our  own. 
No  fare  to  pay,  no  limits  to  bound  us, 
The  town  behind,  and  the  country  around  us  — 
Thou  cam'st  o'er  the  sea, 
Bicycle,  to  me, 

Came  thro'  sunshine,  storm,  and  snows ; 
Seas  may  congeal, 
But  thy  true  wheel 
Turns  the  same,  where'er  it  goes ! 


THOSE    BICYCLES. 
IN    MIDSUMMER. 

THOSE  bicycles,  those  bicycles  ! 
How  merry  a  tale  their  image  tells, 
Of  youth  and  health,  and  that  fleet  time 
When  last  I  heard  their  whistle's  chime. 


52  A  NACRE  ON:   ODE  XXXIX. 

Those  boyous  hours  are  passed  away ; 
And  many  a  heart  that  then  was  gay, 
Out  of  or  in  town  darkly  dwells, 
And  rides  not  now  those  bicycles. 

Again  'twill  be  —  they  are  not  gone  ; 
That  gleeful  wheel  will  still  roll  on, 
While  I  help  bards  to  wire  their  shells 
And  sing  your  praise,  fleet  bicycles. 


ANACREON:    ODE   XXXIX. 

MO(O)RE   TRANSLATED   THAN    EVER. 

How  I  love  the  restive  boy, 
Tripping  on  the  wheel  of  joy ! 
How  I  love  the  mellow  sage, 
Rolling  up  the  hill  of  age ! 

And  whene'er  .the  man  of  years 
On  the  wheel  of  boy  appears, 
Snows  may  o'er  his  head  be  hung, 
But  his  heart  and  heels  are  voungr. 


ROTAL  POESY.  53 

ROTAL  POESY. 

BY    T.  W.  O. 

WHO  comes  so  rollicking, 

Riding  along, 
While  the  blue  poetess 

Frets  at  his  song  ? 
Song,  she  says,  vying 
With  the  high  crying 
WTild  geese  in  flying 

Samely  prolong. 

Not  so  the  ragged  boy 

By  the  wayside, 
Watching  that  bicycle 

Down  the  road  glide, 
Wire  bird  winging, 
Thro'  the  dust  bringing 
That  rhymer  singing 

To  the  hushed  ride. 

"  Stay,"  said  the  little  boy, 

"  Bicycle,  stay ; 
Linger,  sweet  ballader, 

Linger,  I  say." 


54  FROM  THE  GREEK. 

Swiftly  proceeding 
Past  both,  unheeding, 
Song  and  wheel  speeding 
Glided  away. 

So  to  all  youthful  eyes 

Bicycles  shone ; 
Every  bard  able  was 
Forced  to  get  on, 
Editors  declining 
Some  things  combining 
Two  in  one  shining. 
Who  's  the  next  one  ? 


FROM    THE    GREEK. 

BY    T.    M.  +  D. 

IF  you  ride  upon  horses  or  asses, 
You  '11  never  write  anything  nice  ; 

The  wheel 's  the  true  steed  of  Parnassus, 
Which  carries  a  bard  to  the  skies. 


THE  DANDY  BICYCLER.  55 

THE    DANDY    BICYCLER. 

Cyclus  Scintillans. 

RICH  and  fair  were  the  wheels  he  sat, 
And  he  had  on  his  head  a  strange  club  hat ; 
But  his  gay  leggings  were  far  beyond 
His  sparkling  spokes  or  level  wand. 

"  Laddy  !  dost  thou  not  fear  to  stray 

Alone,  bicycling  through  this  by-way  ? 

Are  Erin's  sons  so  peaceable  grown 

As  not  to  be  tempted  to  throwing  the  stone  ? " 

"  Old  man,  I  feel  not  the  least  alarm, 

No  son  of  Erin  will  offer  me  harm ; 

For  though  they  love  mischief  and  rows  galore, 

Old  man,  they  love  manly  exertion  more." 

On  he  went  there,  more  than  a  mile, 
In  safety,  and  bright  as  their  own  green  isle ; 
And  wholly  correct  is  he  who  relied 
Upon  Cycle's  glamour  —  and  Erin  beside. 


56  "MUSIC",  ON  THE    WIRE. 

LITTLE   MISS   LOQUITUR. 

BY    T.    W.   O. 

WHENAS  on  wheels  my  Johnny  goes, 
Then,  then  methinks,  how  fleetly  shows 
That  lively  action  of  his  hose. 

And  when  I  cast  mine  eyes  and  see 
What  brave  vibration  wires  be, 
Oh,  how  that  glittering  taketh  me ! 


"MUSIC"   ON   THE    WIRE. 

WM.   STRODE,  ABOUT    1630,  —  NOW   RIDES. 

WHEN  seniors  tread  the  cranky  wheel, 

From  creeping  passing  to  that  art, 
And  when  at  every  turn  we  feel 
Our  pulses  stir  and  bear  a  part ; 
When  wires  can  make 
The  heartstrings  wake ; 
Philosophy 
Cannot  deny 
The  wheel  is  made  of  jollity. 


"MUSIC"  ON  THE    WIRE.  $? 

When  with  excursive  boys  we  train, 

Where'er  the  wheel  affecteth  most ; 
And  sometimes  singing,  will  maintain 
Bicyclers  mid  the  heavenly  host,  — 
In  lays  we  think 
Make  poets  blink ; 
Philosophy 
Cannot  deny 
The  wheel  consists  of  jollity. 

Thus  did  the  flighty  bicycle 

My  senses  rock  with  motion  sweet ; 
Like  wool  *  on  snow  its  paces  fell. 
Soft  like  a  spirit's,  and  as  fleet. 
Grief  who  needs  feel 
That  hath  a  wheel  ? 
Up  let  him  hie, 
And  clambering  fly, 
And  change  his  dole  for  jollity. 


UNLESS  hereby  above  himself  he  can 
Erect  himself,  how  poor  a  thing  is  man  ! 

*  Laneos  pedes. 


5  8  THE    l^HEEL-SHOP. 

ROTA  ANGLICA. 

BY   MR.   JINGLEBOSOM. 

O  WHEEL  of  wire,  misjudged  by  walking  man,  — 

The  power  of  John  Bull's  pace, 
What  rides  are  here  since  thou  and  Jonathan 

First  greeted  face  to  face  ! 

He  doomed  to  creep,  thou  on  him  didst  impress 
The  pattern  of  a  ruddy  wheeliness. 

Yes,  it  was  well ;  for  so,  mid  cares  that  rule 

Us  men  to  business  tied, 
The  charm  uplifts  us  from  the  chair  and  stool 

To  seats  before  untried. 

We  wheel  our  course  like  pigeons  or  like  hawks ; 
Who  rides  with  us  he  flies,  he  is  but  dust  who  walks. 

THE   WHEEL-SHOP. 

YOUNG  Sixty  went  there,  and  soon  met  with  a  Friend  ; 
Folks  say  in  his  tights  he  's  now  going  on  end  ! 
Then  why  should  not  I  the  same  method  pursue, 
And  quicken  my  paces  as  other  boys  do  ? 

Forty. 


CARMEN  BICYCLICUM.  59 

CARMEN    BICYCLICUM. 

BY   T.   W.   O. 

BICYCLING  bloods  go  forth  to  war 

Hygeia's  crown  to  gain  ; 
Her  rosy  banner  streams  afar, — 

Who  follows  in  their  train  ? 

Who  best  can  sit  his  pig-skin  perch, 

Triumphant  over  bane, 
Who  patient  bears  his  jolt  or  lurch, 

He  follows  in  their  train. 

That  lawyer  first,  whose  eagle  eye 

Could  look  beyond  the  law, 
Rode  forty  miles  upon  the  fly, 

Wrote  what  he  did  and  saw ; 

And  one  who  raids  it  into  Song, 

'Midst  some  immortal  strain, 
Rewriting  poets  where  they  're  wrong  ; 

Who  follows  in  their  train  ? 


60  CARMEN  BICYCLICUM. 

A  glorious  band,  the  chosen  club, 

On  whom  the  spirit  came, 
Twelve  valiant  saints,  their  hope  the  Hub 

Would  mock  not  at  the  same ; 

They  met  the  Briton's  burnished  steel, 

The  Lion's  narrow  wain  ; 
They  bowed  their  necks  to  mount  the  wheel,  - 

Who  follows  in  their  train  ? 

This  mobile  band  of  men  and  boys, 

With  many  converts  made, 
Around  the  State  unthrown  rejoice, 

In  garments  light  arrayed. 

They  climbed  the  steep  ascent  to  saddle 

Thro'  trifling  toil  and  pain ; 
May  all  yet  have  the  grace  to  paddle 

And  follow  in  their  train ! 


BENEATH  the  roll  of  men  on-tirely  great 
The  Wheel  is  mightier  than  the  Horse. 


FLEET  WHEEL.  6 1 

FLEET   WHEEL. 

"SWEET  HOME"  MADE  MORE  MOVING. 

WITH  coaches  and  palace-cars  though  we  may  deal, 
Be  it  even  to  tumble,  there  's  no  seat  like  wheel ! 
A  charm  from  the  skies  ever  follows  us  there, 
Which,  riding  enclosed,  is  not  met  anywhere. 

Wheel,  wheel,  fleet  wheel ! 

There 's  no  seat  like  wheel ! 

Apart  from  the  wheel,  metals  dazzle  in  vain  ! 
O  give  me  my  high,  burnished  'cycle  again  ! 
The  boys  mounting  gayly  that  came  at  the  call ; 
O  give  me  fleet  pace  of  leg,  dearer  than  all ! 

Wheel,  wheel,  fleet  wheel ! 

There 's  no  seat  like  wheel ! 


WHAT   TO    DO. 

IF  sad  that  Fortune's  wheel  can't  use  thee  well, 
And  seeking  for  some  surer  "  dear  Gazelle," 
Cheer  up,  step  up,  and  try  the  bicycle. 


62  HIS  FIRST  RIDE. 


HIS   FIRST   RIDE. 

By  Sir  Frightful  Plagiary 
Taken  from  Miss  Alice  Carey. 

EARTH  with  its  slow  and  tiresome  ills 

Recedes  some  feet  away ; 
Lift  up  y'r  heads,  ye  neighboring  hills, 

I  'm  coming  out  your  way ! 

My  soul  is  full  of  pilfered  song, 
Highwayman's  is  my  right ; 

Bicycles  that  I  feared  too  long, 
Are  things  of  life  —  and  light. 

My  pulses  fast  and  fearless  beat, 
My  limbs  seek  wider  bounds, 

I  feel  grow  firm  beneath  my  feet 
The  rubber  pedal  rounds. 

A  Fifty-inch  the  courage  gives 

High  as  the  brave  to  go ; 
Same  force  in  my  two-wheeler  lives, 

Our  circulations  show. 


"MORTALITY"  ENLIVENED.  63 

This  is  the  safe  and  narrow  way  — 

The  wires  sing  in  the  wind  — 
To  men  on  horse  of  flesh  I  say, 

I  Ve  no  such  carnal  mind. 

In  palace-cars  I  would  not  be, 

Where  rides  the  railroad  king ; 
O  steam,  where  is  thy  victory  ? 

0  bird,  where  is  thy  wing  ? 

N.  B.  —  He  came  a  nasty  cropper  and  back  by  rail ! 


"MORTALITY"   ENLIVENED. 

Made  from  William  Knox's  song, 
Twice  as  true,  and  half  as  long. 

WHY  should  not  the  spirit  of  mortal  be  proud  ? 
Like  a  fast  fleeting  meteor,  a  fast  flying  cloud, 
The  sweep  of  the  foam  on  the  crest  of  a  wave, 
He  passes  from  town  on  his  bicycle  brave ! 

The  lad  on  whose  cheek,  on  whose  brow,  in  whose 

eye, 
Shine  beauty  and  pleasure  —  he  triumphs  to  fly; 


64  "MORTALITY"  ENLIVENED. 

And  the  memory  of  those  boneshakers  once  praised 
Is  away  from  the  minds  of  the  lively  erased. 

So  the  two-wheeler  goes,  like  the  flourishing  weed, 
That  withers  away  to  let  flowers  succeed ; 
So  the  two-wheeler  comes  —  even  those  we  behold, 
To  reseat  every  tail  on  the  bicycle  bold. 

We  are  not  the  same  sort  that  our  fathers  have  been, 
Nor  see  the  same  sights  that  our  fathers  have  seen ; 
We  drink  the  same  stream,  and  we  feel  the  same  sun, 
But  run  not  the  same  course  that  our  fathers  have  run. 

The  thoughts  we  are  thinking,  could  our  fathers  think  ? 
From  "  Spirits  "  we  're  not  shrinking  from,  how  they 

did  shrink ! 

To  the  wheel  we  are  clinging  to,  they  too  would  cling, 
For  it  speeds  on  the  road  like  a  bird  on  the  wing. 

They  died  —  without  Ride!   had  they  things  we  have 

now, 

Who  race  on  the  turf  that  lies  over  their  brow, 
They  'd  made  in  their  dwellings  a  transient  abode, 
To  have  bicycle-meets  on  their  pilgrimage  road. 


SONG    TO  BISAKEL.  65 

'T  is  the  wink  of  an  eye,  't  is  the  wag  of  a  tail, 
To  the  blossom  of  health  from  the  drudgery  pale,  — 
From  the  gilded  saloon  of  the  beer  and  the  crowd  — 
Why  should  not  the  mortal  of  spirit  be  proud  ? 


SONG  TO   BISAKEL. 

(Deus  ex  Machinti.     The  Prince  of  Pace. ) 

To  Bisakel  we  sing  to-day, 
Whose  steely  beams  with  fancy  play, 
And  make  his  wheels  so  brightly  shine 
Aurora's  face  is  less  divine. 
Sing  him,  and  to  the  sliding  throne 
Of  sparkles  which  he  goes  upon, 
lo  Paeans  let  us  sing, 
No  physic  !     Bisakel  is  king. 

Sound  all  his  praises  with  right  fire, 
Captive  bards  support  the  lyre ; 
With  laurelled  helmet  for  his  head, 
Disciples  dance  about  his  tread ; 


66  WHERE'S  MY  JOHN? 

When  on  his  rushing  wire  he  plays, 
Scatter  roses  round,  and  bays, 
lo  Paeans  let  us  sing 
To  the  bright  pedalian  king. 


WHERE'S    MY   JOHN? 

BY   T.    W.    O. 

"  Ho,  Cycler  from  the  road  ! 
Where  's  my  boy  —  my  boy  ? " 
"  What 's  the  boy's  name,  good  wife, 
And  what  is  the  make  he  strode  ? " 

"  My  boy  John  — 

He  that  went  to  ride  — 

What !  I  'm  not  on  the  '  make,'  Cycler  j 

My  boy,  my  boy 's  my  pride. 

"  You  come  back  to  town, 

And  not  seen  my  John  ? 

I  might  as  well  have  asked  some  hodman 

Down  there  in  the  town. 

There  's  not  your  likes  in  all  the  county, 

But  he  knows  my  John. 


WHERE  >S  MY  JOHN?  67 

"  Where 's  my  boy  —  my  boy  ? 

Speak  louder,  and  let  me  know, 

Or  I  swear  you  are  no  cycler, 

Tight  breeches  or  no, 

Gay  leggings  or  no,  Cycler, 

Whistle  and  such  or  no  ! 

Sure  his'n  is  called  a  Jolly  Briton." 

"  He  rode  too  fast,  too  fast." 

"  And  why  should  I  be  fast,  Cycler  ? 

That  have  my  own  boy  John ! 

If  I  was  stout  as  I  am  proud 

I  'd  bang  you  over  the  crown  ! 

Where  's  my  boy,  my  John,  Cycler  ? " 

"  That  big  wheel  went  down." 

"  Where  's  my  boy, —  my  boy  ? 

What  care  I  for  the  wheel,  Cycler  ? 

I  was  never  a-top  it. 

Be  it  running  or  on  the  ground, 

Whether  or  no,  though,  I  '11  be  bound, 

My  Johnny  would  n't  swap  it. 

I  say,  where 's  my  John  ?  " 

"  Every  man  on  wheels  goes  down, 

When  a  man  can't  stop  it." 


68  CAREFUL  SENIOR'S  SONG. 

"  Where  's  my  boy  —  my  boy  ? 
What  care  I  for  the  men.  Cycler  ? 
That  am  John's  mother  ! 
Where  's  my  boy  —  my  boy  ? 
Tell  me  of  him,  and  no  whopper." 
"  He  came  a  NASTY  CROPPER  !  " 


NOTE.  — The  original  of  the  above  seemed  well  worth  capturing,  in 
spite  of  the  severe  verdict  (in  another  connection)  of  a  brother  rhymer 
in  a  New  York  paper  :  — 

"  The  fellah  th-that  steals  from  Sydney  Dobell 
Is  a  wegular  lunatic." 

A  charge  of  cruelly  kidnapping  an  only  child  might  hold.  Methinks 
I  hear  a  wailing  voice,  — 

Ho,  rider  of  the  B  ! 

Where 's  my  poem  —  my  poem  ? 


CAREFUL  SENIOR'S   SONG. 
Ditm  vivimus  volvamns. 

ENGLAND  —  how  wide  her  glory  shines, 

How  high  her  seats  arise  ! 
Known  thro'  the  earth  by  thousand  signs, 

By  two  signs  in  the  skies. 


CAREFUL  SENIOR'S  SONG.  69 

Bicyclus  thence,  that  art  the  best, 

The  true  and  living  wheel, 
Upborne  upon  that  buoyant  crest, 

No  feebleness  I  feel. 

Quickened  thereon,  and  made  alive, 

I  equitate  afoot ; 
My  life  I  from  thy  top  derive, 

My  vigor  from  the  shoot. 

Grafted  on  thee  I  reach  the  sky  — 

At  least,  I  think  I  will, 
For  seated  more  than  four  feet  high, 

My  soul  mounts  higher  still. 

Careful  throughout  Ward  Elev'n  I  drove, 

From  all  destruction  free ; 
My  hands  were  well  engaged  above, 

My  legs  were  still  with  thee. 

Too  long,  alas,  my  devious  feet 

The  sidewalk  ways  have  trode  j 
Henceforth  I  '11  travel  in  the  street, 

O  wheel,  or  on  the  road. 


70  CAREFUL  SENIOR'S  SONG. 

My  walking  beams  were  feeble  sticks, 

Slower  and  shorter  *  then  ; 
I  was,  before,  but  five  feet  six, 

And  now  I  'm  five  feet  ten ! 

Yet  many  tread  a  higher  crank, 

All  modest  is  my  zeal, 
I  make  the  limits  of  my  shank 

The  bounds  unto  my  wheel. 

I  clip  high-climbing  thoughts  at  sight 

Of  rounds  of  swelling  pride ; 
Their  fate  is  worse  that  from  the  height 

Of  sixty  inches  slide. 

When  cobblestones  and  crossings  show 

Like  breakers  unto  me, 
I  do  whatever  I  can  do, 

And  leave  the  rest  to  thee. 

If  casual  falls  retard  our  pace, 

Together  we  arise ; 
Quickly  I  reassume  my  place, 

And  ride  for  exercise. 

*  Four  years  ago  "  Mr.  Punch"  queried  as  to  the  growing  diameter 
of  the  wheel  and  its  effects  en  length  of  limb  in  the  future. 


THE  LIGHT  OF  THE  STUD.  7 1 

THE   PILGRIM. 

BY   SIR   WALTER   ROLLY. 

GIVE  me  my  bicycle  of  quiet, 

My  horse  of  health  to  walk  upon ; 

Enough  of  not  pultaceous  diet,  — 

My  tin  of  lubrication  ; 

My  hose  and  breeches  (leg's  true  gauge) ; 

And  thus  I  '11  take  my  pilgrimage. 

Then  every  happy  day  I  beg 

More  paceful  pilgrims  I  may  see, 
That  have  cast  off  their  nags  of  leg, 

And  ride  a-wheelback,  just  like  me. 


THE    LIGHT   OF  THE   STUD. 

BICYCLE  's  the  sun  of  our  stable, 

His  beams  the  spokes  so  fine ; 
We  planets  that  so  are  able 

With  him  to  roll  and  shine. 
Let  circling  mirth  abound  ; 

We  '11  all  grow  bright 

With  borrowed  light, 
And  shine  as  he  goes  round. 


72  THE    WHEELLESS. 

THE   WHEELLESS. 

CLOSELY   AFTER   HOLMES. 

WE  count  the  working  heads  that  rest 

Where  the  fleet  whirling  riders  beckon, 
But,  on  our  silent  carrier's  crest, 

The  slow-goers  who  will  stop  to  reckon  ? 
A  few  can  twirl  the  magic  wire, 

And  noiseless  wheel  is  proud  to  win  them ; 
Alas,  for  those  who  walk  and  tire, 

And  bide  with  all  their  riding  in  them ! 

Nay,  care  not  for  the  live  alone, 

Much  song  has  told  their  art's  glad  story ; 
Wail  for  the  wheelless,  who  have  none  — 

No  lyric  chants  pedestrian  glory ! 
And  while  Arcadian  breezes  sweep 

O'er  Bicycle's  mirific  flyer, 
Call  where  the  clattering  horse-cars  creep, 

To  bring  your  brothers  one  yard  higher : 

"  O  men  that  walk,  and  take  car  line  — 
Have  tightening  boot  or  tortoise  horses, 


A   HYMNLET.  73 

And  Gout  going  home  to  cordial  wine, 

Slow-dropped  from  crowding's  crushing  process ; 

Attend  the  song  and  echoing  chord,  — 
With  over-ridden  poets  dealing, 

For  you  the  parodies  are  poured, 

As  mad  as  mirth,  as  two  as  wheeling ! " 


A   HYMNLET. 

Beati  'possidentes. 

HAPPY  are  we  whose  joys  abound 

High  on  the  whirling  rim, 
Who  Bicycle  indeed  have  found, 

And  give  the  praise  to  him. 

I  leave  the  earth,  I  rise  and  go, 

To  be  upheld  and  blest ; 
His'n  are  both  my  soles  below, 

And  that  within  my  breast. 

Long  may  we  tread  the  rapid  wheel 

With  undiverted  feet ; 
And  strength  subdue,  and  flaming  zeal, 

The  steepest  grades  we  meet. 


74  THE  PHANTOM  OF  DELIGHT. 

SOLILOQUY  OF  A  WARY  WOBBLER. 

ADDISON   WITH    ADDITIONS. 

— •  WHENCE  this  pleasing  hope,  this  fond  desire, 
This  longing  after  rides  on  bicycles  ? 
And  whence  this  secret  dread  and  inward  horror 
Of  falling  in  the  mud  ?     Why  shrinks  the  soul 
Back  on  herself,  and  starts  at  nasty  croppers  ? 
•  'Tis  the  Divinity  that  stirs  within  us, 
'T  is  Bisakel  himself  points  what  we  're  after, 
And  intimates  bicycling  unto  man,  — 
Bicycling,  that  so  pleasing,  dreadful  thought ! 


THE   PHANTOM   OF  DELIGHT. 

A  WORDSWORTHY  VARIATION  BY   A  RYDAL  BARD. 

IT  was  a  phantom  of  delight 
When  first  it  gleamed  upon  my  sight ; 
A  lively  apparition  sent, 
To  captivate  a  continent. 


THE  PHANTOM  OF  DELIGHT.          75 

Its  spokes  as  rays  of  starlight  fair ; 
Like  starlight,  too,  they  twinkled  where 
Bestriders  hereabout  were  borne, 
From  May-time  until  Christmas  morn  ; 
A  stately  shape,  a  racer  gay, 
To  mount,  to  start,  and  win  the  day. 

I  saw  it  upon  nearer  view, 

A  horse,  and  yet  a  carriage,  too  1 

With  foot-hold  motions  light  and  free, 

And  steps  to  aid  agility. 

Accounts  are  had  —  in  which  we  meet 

Fleet  records,  promises  as  fleet ; 

A  creature  not  too  bright  to  scoot 

For  human  nature's  daily  foot; 

For  transient  trips,  or  ample  miles, 

Onward  Rotator  tears,  and  smiles. 

And  now  I  feel  with  hand  serene 
The  very  pulse  of  the  machine  ;* 
A  being,  breathing  though  no  breath, 
A  traveller  e'en  for  life  and  death, 

*  William's  own  line,  of  dubious  fitness  till  now. 


76     IN  RUNNING  EM  fr   CO:S  SALESROOM. 

With  rider  firm,  of  temperate  will, 

Of  balance,  eyesight,  strength,  and  skill  j 

A  perfect  carriage,  nobly  planned 

To  run  with  comfort,  at  command ; 

And  yet  a  courser  still  and  bright, 

Of  forty  pounds  of  pure  delight. 


IN    RUNNING'EM  &   CO.'S   SALESROOM. 

BY  TWO   RYDAL  BARDS. 

"  TAX  not  the  rotal  Gait  with  vain  expense, 

With  ill-matched  wheels  the  Artisan  who  planned 

(At  first  contriving  for  a  jaunty  band 

Of  tight-breeched  Britons  only)  these  immense, 

And  little,  whirls  of  still  circumference ! 

Give  all  thou  canst,  my  best  expect  no  lower, 

The  price  is  regulated  less  or  more." 

So  spake  who  sold  for  merely  dollars  and  cents 

These  lofty  spinners,  that  launching  seat  aloof, 

Self-poised  to  shoot  over  the  hills  and  dells 

Where  light  and  shade  refresh,  where  Rustic  dwells. 

Fingering  and  pondering  them  as  both  would  fly, 

Our  thoughts  flew  with  a  fleetness  giving  proof 

That  we  were  born  for  high  legerity. 


HYGEIA^S  WHEEL. 

HYGEIA'S 
Lux  ecce  surgit  ft 

SWIFT  heralds  bright 

With  feet  of  might 
Upon  bicycles  stand, 

Sent  to  proclaim 

In  John's  high  name 
Glad  ridings  to  the  land. 

Long  miles  they  rove, 

They  walk  above, 
And  "  Come  up  hither !  "  cry, 

"  The  soles  that  climb 

Wheel's  height  sublime 
Catch  Health  upon  the  fly." 

The  little  child, 

Who  brightly  smiled 
When  red  three-wheeler  bore, 

Will  leave  that  kind, — 

His  growing  mind 
Rides  upon  something  more. 

With  accents  sweet 

His  lips  repeat 


78  HYGEIAS   WHEEL. 

The  chorus  of  the  high  : 
"True  soles  that  be 
From  walk  made  free 

Catch  Health  upon  the  fly." 

Joy.  crowns  our  powers 
Some  summer  hours, 

And  spring  and  autumn  days ; 
'Mid  winter  snows 
We  in  repose 

Sing  thoughts  of  roily  pace. 
Thus  pales  or  burns 
Wheel's  star  by  turns, 

As  rolling  seasons  fly ; 
Both  Winter's  blight 
And  Summer's  light 

See  bloom  upon  the  Bi. 

From  health  amiss 

To  height  of  this 
When  willing  mortals  strive, 

Wheel  is  their  gain, 

And  pace  amain 
Shall  keep  their  blood  alive. 


A   MERRY  CAR.  79 

But  higher  still, 

O'er  trouble's  hill, 
Their  force  shall  onward  hie  ; 

Till  souls  shall  save 

Beyond  the  grave 
Their  Health  above  the  sky. 


A  MERRY  CAR. 

BY   SMITH   ET   AL. 

BICYCLE,  't  is  of  thee, 
Fleet  car  of  levity, 

Of  thee  I  sing : 
Wheel  I  and  brothers  ride, 
And  on  the  still  rim's  pride, 
Up  every  high  hill-side 

Drive  the  great  ring. 

Two-wheeler  —  or  if  three, 
Car  of  hilarity, 

The  same  I  love  j 


So  A   MERRY  CAR. 

I  hate  the  rocky  ills 
That  give  me  ugly  spills, 
Yet  my  heart  rather  thrills  — 
See  as  above. 

Make  carols  on  the  breeze, 
And  wring  from  all  the  P's 

Fleet  wheeldom's  song : 
Let  walking  ones  awake, 
Let  older  gents  partake, 
And,  ready  on  the  brake, 

Fly  down  along ! 

Our  Bisakel,  to  thee, 
Angel  of  wheelery, 

To  thee  we  sing : 
Long  make  our  band  be  bright 
With  wheeldom's  roily  light ; 
Propel  us  by  thy  might, 

Great  pedal  king. 


1^2^^/* 

^£>K 

- 


ELDERS,   COME   UP.  8 1 

ELDERS,   COME   UP. 
j.  D.  +  D. 

CREEP  ye  no  more,  grave  walkers, 

Why  need  you  move  so  slow  ? 
Look  now,  the  young  wheel-stalkers  — 

And  have  n't  they  got  the  go  ! 
But  though  sons  easily  rise, 

Father  still  keeping 

Sidewalks  hies  creeping, 
Dully,  yet  dully  hies 

Creeping. 

Wheel  is  a  care-beguiling, 

A  ride  that  years  befits  ; 
Doth  not  the  son  go  smiling 

When  fair  on  saddle  he  sits  ? 
Ride  you  then,  ride  and  ri-se, 

Doubt  not  m  feeling 

While  he  flies  wheeling; 
Softly,  now  softly  flies 

Wheeling. 
6 


82  WINTRY  MUSINGS. 

TO   MIDDEL  ACER,   ESQ. 
j.  D.  +  D. 

LEAST  of  a  bird,  sublimely  when  you  might 
Fly  long  and  steep,  to  fail  before  the  height ! 
What  if  your  dull  forefathers  did  not  fly, 
Could  you  not  let  a  bad  example  die  ? 
Wheelmen  are  risen  into  an  airier  way ; 
Your  age  does  better  to  ride  fast  and  gay. 
Good  sense,  then,  in  your  worship  would  appear, 
Now  to  begin,  and  so  go  through  the  year. 


WINTRY  MUSINGS. 

Habitus  Bicyclicus. 

WHEN  breezes  are  soft,  and  roads  are  hard, 

(Bicycle  high  with  the  slippery  seat) 
Thou  to  my  trying  dost  give  reward, 
•    And  wheel  is  my  wheel  for  any  meet. 


WINTRY  MUSINGS.  83 

For  the  drinking  and  eat  of  the  day, 
(Bicycle  high  with  the  slippery  seat) 

Oft  am  I  bothered  and  scarce  can  pay, 
But  wheel  is  my  wheel  for  other  meet. 

When  I,  lone  bachelor  once,  did  sigh, 
(Bicycle  high  with  the  slippery  seat) 

Thou  didst  me  pity,  and  drew  me  nigh 
To  wheel  as  my  wheel  for  partner  meet. 

When  I,  since  married  for  my  sins,  did  cry, 
(Bicycle  high  with  the  slippery  seat) 

Again  didst  pity,  and  made  me  fly ! 

And  wheel  is  my  wheel  for  true  helpmeet. 

'Tis  winter  time  now,  the  year  is  young, 
(Bicycle  high  with  the  slippery  seat) 

My  ridings  fail  me,  but  may  be  sung, 
For  wheel  is  my  wheel  for  singing  meet. 

White  as  the  snow  is  thy  nickeled  skin, 
(Bicycle  high  with  the  slippery  seat) 

Though  I  can't  drive  it  thro'  thick  and  thin, 
The  wheel  is  my  wheel  for  surface  meet. 


84  ADAPTED   ODE. 

My  face  paleth,  my  tread  is  low, 
(Bicycle  high  with  the  slippery  seat) 

I  merely  sing  you,  but  travel  slow 
Till  wheel  is  my  wheel  for  early  meet. 


ADAPTED   ODE. 
THE   TRYING  'CYCLER  TO   HIS   WHEEL. 

ROTAL  bird  of  travelling  fame, 
Let  me  quit  this  sort  of  game : 
Climbing,  toppling,  faltering,  vying, 
Oh  the  strain,  the  hopes  of  trying ! 
Peace,  fond  motor,  cease  the  strife, 
And  start  me  languid  into  life. 

Hark!  they  whistle;  'cyclers  say, 
Brother,  spin  it  right  away.  — 
This  is  what  abducts  me  quite ! 
Steels  my  sinews,  rears  my  height, 
Downs  my  troubles,  stirs  my  pride ; 
High-metalled  steed,  is  this  your  ride  ? 


"MY  LOVE,"  A  SPOOFS Y  POEM.  85 

The  town  recedes  —  it  disappears  ! 
Fields  open  on  my  eyes,  my  ears 
With  sounds  viatic  ring. 
On  end,  with  wings,  I  dance,  I  fly ! 
O  horse,  where  is  thy  quick  go-by  ? 
Of  chafe  where  is  the  sting  ? 


"MY   LOVE,'7  A  SPOOPSY   POEM. 

BY   PROF.    HIGHWELL. 

NOT  as  some  other  wheelers  are 
Is  she  that  to  my  sole  is  dear ; 
Her  glorious  fabric  came  from  far, 
Beneath  the  silver  morning  star, 
To  get  her  art  in  over  here. 

Great  felloes  hath  she  of  her  own, 

Which  lesser  wheels  may  never  know 
John  giveth  them  to  her  alone, 
And  fleet  they  are  as  any  one 

Direction  winds  may  choose  to  blow. 


86  A   HEADER. 

But  of  herself  she  standeth  not, 

Though  many  can  not  half  so  fair ; 
That  simplest  duty  is  forgot,  — 
Yet  hath  she  no  dim  rusty  spot 
That  doth  not  in  her  nickel  share. 

She  hath  no  scorn  of  common  folks, 
And  though  she  is  of  other  birth, 
Roundly  her  axle  twirls,  and  spokes, 
And  patiently  she  bears  the  jokes, 
And  rides  the  Yankee  paths  of  earth. 

Blessing  she  is ;  John  made  her  so, 

And  deeds  of  daily  wheeliness 
Roll  from  her  noiseless  as  the  snow,  — 
Nor  will  she  ever  chance  to  know 
That  I  'm  a  jackass,  more  or  less. 


A   HEADER. 

GOING  leg  after  leg, 

(As  the  dog  went  to  Dover) 
When  he  came  to  a  stone, 

Down  he  went  over. 


"GONDOLA"  MADE  BICYCLE.  87 

ROTA   FELIX. 

BEAUMOUNT   &   FLEETCHER. 

COME,  Wheel,  and  with  thy  fleet  reprieving, 

Rock  me  in  delight  awhile ; 

Let  some  pleasing  roads  beguile 

My  reflections,  so  from  thence 

They  may  take  an  influence 
All  my  sours  of  care  relieving. 

Though  but  a  skeleton  a-gliding, 

Life  it  brings  for  man  or  boy ! 

Walkers  suffer  long  annoy, 

111  content  with  any  thought 

In  their  laggard  fancy  wrought : 
Be  mine  the  joys  that  come  of  riding ! 


"GONDOLA"   MADE   BICYCLE. 

BY  LORD   BOYRUN. 

DIDST  ever  see  a  Bicycle  ?     For  fear 

You  have  not,  I  '11  describe  it  you  exactly  : 

'T  is  an  uncovered  car  that 's  common  here, 

Steered  at  the  front,  built  lightly  but  compactly, 


88  RHYMES  OF  THE  ROAD. 

Rode  by  one  rider,  not  called  bicyclier ; 

They  glide  along  the  highway  looking  crackly, 
Just  as  a  witch  clapt  on  a  broom  can  go  it, 
While  some  can't  make  out  how  it  is  they  do  it. 

And  up  and  down  the  avenues  they  go, 
And  over  the  macadam  shoot  along, 

By  day  and  night,  all  paces,  swift  or  slow, 
And  round  the  suburbs  here,  an  able  throng; 

They  ply  no  whip  nor  spur — and  know  no  whoa, 
As  not  to  them  do  woful  things  belong, 

For  all  times  they  maintain  a  deal  of  fun, 

Like  wedding  coaches  when  the  mischief 's  done. 


RHYMES    OF   THE    ROAD. 

BY  LORD   BOYRUN. 
I. 

HORSES  we  hire  no  further ;  and  the  rays 
Of  bright  wheels  make  sufficient  holidays  : 
Eloping  past  the  green  fields,  trees  and  flowers, 
We,  shining  like  the  crawling  brook,  go  by. 


RHYMES  OF  THE  ROAD.  89 

Clear  as  its  current  ride  the  glowing  hours 
With  a  calm  vigor,  which,  tho'  to  the  eye 
Idlesse  it  seem,  hath  its  own  industry. 
If  from  the  billowy  we  learn  to  dive, 
'T  is  bicycle  should  teach  us  how  to  fly  j 
It  bears  no  flutterers,  company  can  give 
No  fellow  aid  —  alone,  man  with  his  wheel  must  strive. 

II. 

WHEEL  of  the  many-twinkling  spokes !  whose  charms 
Are  all  extended  up  from  legs  to  arms ; 
Bicycle  !  though  too  long  boneshaker  made  — 
Reproachful  term,  bestowed  but  to  upbraid  — 
Now  Phoenix  and  a  volant  miracle, 
Flashing  to  view,  immense  but  movable  ; 
Henceforth  in  all  the  steel  of  brightness  shine, 
The  least  a  vaster  than  in  'Sixty-nine. 
Far  be  from  thee  and  thine  the  name  of  rude ; 
Though  yet  triumphant,  be  our  ways  subdued. 
Our  legs  most  move  to  conquer  as  they  fly, 
If  wheels  and  hopes  are  reasonably  high. 


. 

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'•^  ^%L  &&*^4~/0*i^*>C^  S^JX^  4. 


90  TO   ABEL  ELDER. 

SONNETS 

BY  WHEELIAM  SHAKESPOKE. 


TO   ABEL   ELDER. 

Insistere  rotis. 

I.  (7) 

WHEN  from  the  orient  graceful  Carrier  light 
Sported  his  well-turned  limbs,  each  under  eye 
Made  image  of  the  new-appearing  sight, 
Serving  with  gaze  his  saddled  ministry. 
An  thou  hadst  climbed  the  steep-up  Bicycle, 
Resuming  strong  youth  in  thy  middle  age, 
Yet-middling  looks  to  his  were  semblable, 
Amending  on  his  steely  pilgrimage ; 
But  when  of  highmost  wheel,  with  wary  care 
Like  feeble  age,  thou  reelest  from  the  ray, 
Thine  eyes,  'fore  Gad,  man  !  now  perverted  are 
From  his  high  act  to  seek  the  nether  way  : 
So,  thou  thyself  low-going  in  thy  noon, 
Look  for  no  rise,  unless  thou  get  thee  one. 


THE  REASONS   WHY.  91 

II.  (16) 

THEN  wherefore  do  not  you  an  airy  way 

Make  speed  to  shun  this  stealthy  tiger,  Time, 

And  '  forty-pound  '  yourself  against  decay  ? 

Which  means  light  one  of  fifty  inch  to  climb  ! 

Now  stand  you  on  the  top  of  happy  cranks, 

And  many  centric  sinews  stiffly  set, 

A  stable  horse,  would  bear  your  lively  shanks, 

Much  better  than  the  panting  counterfeit. 

So  should  the  hues  of  life  that  lift  repair  j 

While  toilet's  pencil,  or  my  truthful  pen, 

Neither  in  phys'nomy  nor  tract  of  hair, 

Can  draw  you  like  yourself  made  young  again  : 

To  ride  away  yourself  keeps  yourself  still, 

And  you  most  live,  drawn  by  your  own  fleet  skill. 


THE   REASONS   WHY. 

Alto  ex  Bicycli  vertice. 

I.  (76) 

WHY  is  my  verse  so  fertile  of  new  ride, 
So  full  of  levitation  and  quick  range  ? 


92  THE  REASONS   WHY. 

And  all  the  time  why  do  I  prance  astride 

Of  goodliest  authors  and  make  compounds  strange  ? 

Why  write  I  still  of  one  (over  the  same), 

And  laud  invention  in  a  noted  steed, 

With  very  words  in  almost  every  name, 

Showing  their  worth  where  higher  to  proceed  ? 

Know  ye,  big  bards,  I  love  to  link  with  you,  — 

One  great,  one  small  wheel,  on  the  road  have  led  ; 

So  all  my  zest  is  spinning  old  song  new, 

Speeding  again  what  is  already  sped. 

Just  like  the  riding  rod  I  daily  hold, 

So  is  my  pen  con-trolling  what  is  trolled. 

II.  (59) 

SAY  there  be  nothing  new,  but  that  which  is 
Was  old  before,  should  be  their  brains  reviled 
Who,  laboring  with  invention,  bore  in  this 
The  second  burden  of  a  buried  child  ? 
O  that  could  record  with  a  rearward  look 
Of  many  hundred  circuits  of  the  sun 
Show  the  like  image  in  some  antique  book, 
Or  prediluvian  print  in  fossil  done ! 
That  I  might  see  what  in  that  world  made  way 
For  the  combined  meteors  of  this  frame ; 


TO  BIS  A  K EL.  93 

What  they  ascended,  if  slow  or  faster  they, 
Or  wheely  revolution  be  the  same : 
Then  might  I  claim  from  wits  of  every  time 
The  self-same  right  to  reconstructed  rhyme. 


TO    BISAKEL. 

Cantilenam  eandem  canens. 

I.  (78) 

OFTEN  have  I  invoked  thee  for  my  muse, 

And  found  a  rare  persistence  in  the  verse, 

Where  every  salient  pen  serveth  my  use, 

And  under  thee  our  poesy  disperse. 

Thy  rays  that  warmed  the  dumb  on  high  to  sing, 

And  heavy  ambulance  aloft  to  fly, 

Have  added  wires  to  the  poets'  string, 

And  given  grace  to  dual  wheelery. 

Thou  art  the  guide  of  that  which  I  compile, 

Fair-spoken  wheels  and  words  belong  to  thee  ; 

Of  others'  works  thou  dost  amend  the  style, 

Their  arts  with  thy  fleet  races  racy  be  : 

'T  is  thou  art  all  my  art,  and  dost  advance 

To  vie  with  William  my  full  countenance. 


94  TO  BISAKEL. 

II-  (38) 

How  can  my  mind  want  matter  to  invent, 
While  there  are  books,  and  thou  pour'st  into  verse 
Thine  own  fleet  betterment,  too  highly  bent 
For  every  vulgar  paper  to  rehearse  ?  * 
Then  give  thyself  no  care  —  if  aught  I  see 
Worthy  bestowal,  and  to  gain  thy  right, 
Am  not  so  dumb  I  cannot  sing  of  thee, 
Who  hast  thyself  given  us  invention  light ; 
Thou,  the  tenth  Muse,  in  these  times  more  in  worth 
Than  those  old  nine  which  my  bards  invocate. 
And  he  still  harping  on,  let  him  set  forth 
Their  subject  numbers  to  outlive  his  date. 
If  my  light-fingering  please  these  carious  days, 
The  stealth  be  mine,  but  thine  the  wealth  and  praise. 

SHAKESPOKE'S    EPIGRAM. 

YOUNG  friend,  for  cyclus'  sake  forbear 
To  bite  the  dust  that 's  ever  near. 
Blest  is  the  man  avoids  the  stones, 
And  curst  is  he  that  breaks  his  bones. 

*  William's  own  line ;  some  editors  afeard  ! 


THE  BICYCLER;  A    VAGARY. 

THE   BICYCLER;   A  VAGARY. 
(Writer  been  taking  something.) 

HEARTI-  and  hardiness  unite 
To  give  Bicycler's  name  a  raise ; 

Most  fairly  seen  in  the  clear  light 
That  fills  '  excursions  of  two  days.' 

A  knightly  character  he  bears  — 
Not  that  his  business  office  knows ; 

Unfading  is  the  coat  he  wears, 

If  first-class  tailor  makes  his  clothes. 

Cock  of  the  walk  for  treading  high, 
Elation  shines  upon  his  face  — 

His  coat,  I  say,  is  the  real  dye  — 
His  steps  are  levity  and  grace. 

Inferior  horses  he  disdains, 

Nor  stoops  to  lower  walks  on  earth  ; 
John  Taurus'  goodly  work  maintains 

The  expanses  of  his  airy  mirth. 


96     CAMPBELL,    UNDONE  AND   OUTDONE. 

The  stoutest  gent  who  struts  below, 
When  trained  to  fill  a  seat  above, 

John  gives  him  all  he  can  bestow, 
His  wheeldom  of  diurnal  move. 

Beer  shall  be  lavished  at  the  halt  — 
Methinks  from  earth  I  see  him  rise ! 

Clubbers  convulse  to  see  him  vault, 
And  shout  him  welcome  to  the  wise ! 


CAMPBELL,  UNDONE  AND  OUTDONE. 

WHEN  oftentimes  the  young  aerial  beau 
Spans  on  bright  arch  the  glittering  wheels  below, 
Why  to  yon  upland  turns  the  'cycling  eye, 
Whose  misty  outline  mingles  with  the  sky  ? 
WThy  do  those  tracts  of  soberer  tint  appear 
More  meet  than  all  the  landscape  shining  near  ? 
'T  is  distance  sends  enchantment  to  his  view, 
And  lures  the  mounted  with  its  azure  hue. 


ALTA    CANENS.  97- 

ALTA   CANENS. 

TO   THE  SURVIVING  EIGHT  OF   THE   FORTY. 
BY  T.  W.  O. 

SWEET  poets  of  this  move  ! 

Who  sing,  without  design, 
The  song  of  artful  love, 

In  unison  with  mine  ; 
These  echoing  lays  contain 

Full  many  notes  of  ours 
Which  you  ones  cannot  gain 

With  less  than  boosted  powers. 

The  wheel  of  nickeled  charms 

Those  hearts  too  seldom  love, 
Although  the  treadle  warms 

And  lightens  all  above. 
How  slow  their  classic  things 

To  this  our  modern  lot, 
High-layrious  Mount  with  springs, — 

And  yet  they  seek  them  not ! 
7 


98  APOLOGY. 

Bi-writing  cannot  rest 

Till  rhymsters  so  improve, 
That,  reading  and  distrest, 

Ye  bards  will  join  the  move  : 
'T  is  happy,  with  its  brakes 

Beneath  the  chastening  hand 
But,  doubtless,  no  great  shakes 

If  you  can't  understand. 


APOLOGY. 

Quifactt  per  alium  facit  per  se. 

THAT  which  I  sing  is  partly  mine, 
Dear  son  of  Song,  remade  of  thine ; 
When  thou  hast  learned  to  ride,  shalt  see 
The  perfect  meaning  found  by  me. 

That  song  I  made,  it  was  not  mine 
When  fraught  with  incense  superfine, 
Till,  when  thou  sang'st  it  sweetly  through, 
I  with  my  voice  sang  —  making  two. 


NON  AS  SUM  PS  IT.  99 

All  which  I  am,  it  is  not  mine  : 
The  moon  unto  the  earth  doth  shine  — 
Not  of  herself,  but  every  ray 
Quotes  from  a  bright  One  far  away. 


NON    ASSUMPSIT. 

YOUNG  Rollo  sat  riding  a  wheel  with  his  foot, 

And  he  sang,  "  Will  you  come  on  the  Flyer  ? " 
Tall  middle-aged  man  had  stood  hitherto  mute, 
And  now  turned  away,  like  an  indolent  brute, 
And  he  said,  "  I  '11  not  come  any  higher." 


IT  is  a  little  wheel 

All  of  rubber  and  steel, 
With  a  big  one,  rather  fickle,  on  afor'ard ; 

And  when  it  is  good, 

It  is  very  very  good, 
But  when  it  is  bad,  it  is  horrid ! 


100  WHEELY  THOUGHTS,   ETC. 

WHEEL Y   THOUGHTS   AND    EJACU- 
LATIONS. 

ROTALIS   EOUITATUS. 

OH  who  can  forget  the  first  rides,  after  learning, 
When  wheeling  gave  life  a  new  edge  with  its  steel ; 

And  the  soul,  like  those  cakes  made  delicious. by 

turning, 
Gave  out  all  its  sweets  up  a-top  of  the  wheel ! 

Forth  going  in  beauty  from  nation  to  nation, 
Most  lively  and  fleet  its  dominion  shall  be ; 

Big  poets  proclaim  it  the  best  equitation, 

And  to  roll  ever  on  like  the  waves  of  the  sea. 


WESTWARD  the  horse  Bicycle  takes  its  way ; 

The  four-foot  one  already  passed, 
Now  swiftly  goes  the  charmer  with  the  day : 

John's  noblest  offspring  is  his  last. 


WHEELY  THOUGHTS,   ETC.  IOI 

ARE   YOU   READY? 

ARE  you  ready  for  the  meeting 

With  bicyclers  in  the  air  ? 
Longing  for  that  wheely  greeting 

With  the  handsome  many  there  ? 
If  not  ready,  if  not  steady, 

Oh,  for  that  great  way  prepare  ! 


WHEN  I  was  young,  and  in  my  prime, 
I  used  to  foot  it  all  the  time  ; 
But  now  I  'm  old  and  getting  gray, 
I  ride  bicycle  every  day. 


ONE  self-propelling  hour  whole  days  outshines 
Of  vapid  walkers,  or  of  horse-car  lines ; 
And  more  true  joy  bicycler  axled  feels 
Than  driver  with  a  trotter  to  his  wheels. 


HEREDITARY  walkers  !  know  ye  not 
Who    would   be   free,    themselves   must   mount   the 
wheel  ? 


102  WHEELY  THOUGHTS,  ETC. 

i 

SLICK  TRANSIT  GLORIA  BICYCLI. 

OUR  airy  feet  with  well  known  flight, 
Swift  on  the  twinklings  of  the  wire, 

Run  up  the  hills  that  heave  in  sight, 
And  leave  the  walking  world  to  tire. 

Cleave  to  the  earth,  ye  booted  ones, 
Contented  kick  your  native  dust ! 

While  old  bicyclers  and  their  sons 

Light-footed  tread  the  wheel  they  trust. 


'T  is  the  morning  of  life  gives  bicyclical  lore, 
And  coming  wheels  can  cast  their  riders  before. 


IN  currente  rota  qui  sedet,  pervolat  terram. 


HEALTH  and  joy  and  youth  returning, 
Here  have  fixed  their  leather  seat ; 

With  Bisakel  our  hearts  are  burning, 
He  is  with  us  when  we  meet. 


WHEELY  THOUGHTS,  ETC.  103 

EVEN  on  this  wheel  come  all  who  can, 
And  leave  behind  them  the  old  man. 


A  TYPE  in  nature  for  bicycling  souls,  — 
Rivers  can  only  run,  great  Ocean  rolls  ! 


WHAT  is  it  makes  best  bicycles  so  light  ? 
Because  they  're  nickeled  of  a  glossy  white. 


EACH  on  his  narrow  seat  of  porcine  hide, 
The  gay  forefathers  of  the  future  ride. 


Post  equitem  sedet  atra  euro, 

Doth  not  apply  to  the  'cycling  tourer. 


WHILE  the  wheel  holds  out  to  turn, 
The  miles t  walker  may  go  learn. 


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104  POEM  OF  THE  RIDE. 

POEM   OF   THE   RIDE. 

A   PARODY-MOSAIC. 
BY   WALT  WHEELMAN. 

Poetica  surgit  tempestas. 

1.  SEATED,  but  erect,  I  take  to  the  open  road, 
Sturdy,  free,  the  wheel  beneath  me, 

The  long  brown  path  before  me,  leading  wherever  I 
choose. 

2.  Allons  !    Whoever  you  are,  come  travel  with  me  ! 
Travelling  with  me,  you  find  what  never  tires. 
Omnes !    en  masse,    Americanos!      Libertad !      Re- 

spondez ! 

I  am  he  that  walks  on  the  rigid  and  rolling  wheel ; 
I  call  to  the  rolling  earth  and  sea,  upheld  by  the 

wheel, 
Wheel  of  the  wiry  quietude  !     Wheel  of  the  small 

many  spokes  ! 
Slim,    trim,   glossy,   peculiar   wheel !     Mad,   gentle, 

skeleton,  rubber,  nickel  wheel ! 


POEM  OF  THE  RIDE.  105 

Behold  the  great  rondure,  all  bright  from  central  to 
extreme  —  the  cohesion  of  all,  how  perfect ! 

The  fine  centrifugal  spokes  of  light,  the  quick,  tremu- 
lous whirl  of  the  wheels  —  the  two  wheels, 
twain  but  not  twin. 


3.  I  chant  the  chant  of  rotation  or  ride,  a  ride  with  a 

flying  flavor ; 
We   have   had   crawling   and    perambulating    about 

enough. 

I  show  that  wheel  is  only  development. 
From  this  hour,  freedom,  and  a  sprightly  domination  ! 
From  this  hour,  we  ordain  ourselves  loosed  of  limits 

and  all  horse-car  lines, 
Going  where  we  list  —  our  own  motors,  rotal    and 

resolute. 

4.  Here   is   realization,  the  requisite  realization  of 

health  ; 

Here  is  a  man  rallied,  and  he  fires  up  what  he  has  in 
him. 

Sublimed  upon  the  zenith  of  a  wheel,  I  ride  the  tri- 
umphal arch  of  hygienic  hilarity. 


106  POEM  OF  THE  RIDE. 

I  tread  the  pedal  orbits  with  plunging  feet ; 

I  dance  and  equilibrize  on  the  revoluting  stilts ; 

Trampling  strong  to  the  hill-tops,  and  shooting  the 
rapids  down. 

My  foothold  is  tenoned  and  mortised  in  confidence, 

And  I  know  the  amplitude  of  space. 

Mine  is  the  wheel  of  the  most  high,  a  sixty-incher. 

Earth  !  you  seem  to  look  for  something  at  my  feet ; 

Say,  old  Stop-not !  what  do  you  want  ? 

Far-swooping,  whirling  Earth,  with  the  trailing  satel- 
lite, 

Smile,  for  your  Bicycler  comes  !  We  it  is  who  balance 
ourselves,  orbic  and  stellar. 

We  must  have  a  turn  together  —  beat  the  gong  of 
revolution  for  our  rouse  and  early  start. 

5.  Long  had  I  walked  my  cities,  my  country  roads 
and  farms,  only  half-satisfied. 

I  heard  what  was  said  of  the  universe,  its  immensities 
of  space  and  time,  its  orbits  of  stars  and  plan- 
ets, its  chronological,  geological  and  astronom- 
ical cycles ; 

It  is  middling  well  as  far  as  it  goes,  —  But  is  that 
all? 


POEM  OF   THE   RIDE.  IO/ 

Belonging  to  the  winders  of  the  circuit  of  circuits,  my 
words  are  words  of  a  questioning,  and  to  in- 
dicate rotality  and  motive-power. 

I  know  perfectly  well  my  own  1  egotism  ; 

One  of  that  centripetal  and  centrifugal  band,  full  of  the 
power  of  the  wheely  boast,  I  turn  and  talk  like 
an  engine  blowing  off  steam  after  a  journey. 

6.  I  rise  elastic  through  all,  sweep  with  the  true  levi- 
tation, 

The  whirling  of  wheeling  elemental  and  primeval 
within  me ; 

In  a  higher  walk  of  life,  an  unearthly  walk. 

That  I  ride  and  speak  is  spectacle  enough  for  the 
great  authors  and  schools  —  me  imperturbe, 
aplomb,  orotund,  turbulent,  emerging  superb. 

I  harbinge,  I  promulge,  I  propound  haughty  and 
gigantic  enigmas. 

I  step  up  to  say  I  am  a  Chaos,  a  pied  marauder  on 
the  rampage  ! 

I  sound  my  sarcastic  whoop  over  the  bardic  habi- 
tudes—  rhyme  and  metres  to  the  perfect  lit- 
erats  of  America. 

Do  you  take  it  I  would  astonish  ? 


108  POEM  OF  THE  RIDE. 

Does  the  sunrise  astonish  ?    Does  the  early  milkman, 

rattling  over  the  stones  ? 
Do  I  astonish  more  than   they  ?     Would  you  have 

delicate  thunderbolts  ? 

7.  I  launch  forward,  I  propel  the  r-ideal  man,   the 

American  of  the  future, 

arts 

For  I  see  that  power  is  fekled  in  a  great  bicyclism. 
What  do  you  suppose  will  satisfy  the  Soul  except  to 

walk  free  upon  a  superior  bicycle  ? 
Imbued  as  they  —  active,  receptive,  often   silent  as 

they  ? 

They  do  not  seem  to  me  like  the  old  specimens. 
They  seem  to  me  at  last  as  perfect  as  the  animals  — 

to  that  the  revolving  cycles  truly  and  steadily 

rolled. 

8.  O  for  the  paces  of  animals  !     O  for  the  swiftness 

and  balance  of  fishes  and  the  birds  ! 

0  to  be  self-balanced  for  contingencies  ! 

1  am  an  ostrich,  an  albatross,  a  condor  of  the  Andes, 
I  am  tattooed  with  antelopes  and  birds  all  over, 
And  have  distanced  what   is  behind  me  for  good 

reasons. 


POEM   OF  THE  RIDE.  109 

0  to  cling  close  to  something  afar  off,   something 

precarious  and  uproarious  ! 

To  push  with  resistless  way,  and  speed  off  in  the  dis- 
tance, 

To  speed  where  there  is  space  enough  and  air  enough 
at  last  ! 

1  breathe  the  air  and  leave  plenty  after,  me. 

9.  You  there,  hesitant,  limp  in   the  knees,  walking 

humbly,  lamenting  your  sins  ; 
Down-footed  doubters,  dull  and  excluded ;  you  are 

eligible  ! 

What  have  I  to  do  with  lamentation  ? 
How  is  it  I  extract  strength  from  the  beef  I  eat  ? 
I  trip  forth  replenished  with  serene  power  on   the 

bright  ring  of  ride,  the  ensemble  of  the  orbic 

frame,  the  great  Biune. 
On  cycles  fit  for  reception  I  start  bigger  and  nimbler 

lads. 

This  way  I  am  getting  the  stuff  of  more  elevated  re- 
publicans ; 
They  are  tanned  in  the  face  by  glowing  suns   and 

blowing  winds, 
Their  flesh  has  the  old  divine  suppleness  and  strength. 


110  POEM   OF  THE  RIDE. 

10.  Men  of  the  roily  vantage,  I  salute  you  ! 

I  see  the  approach  of  your  numberless  clubs  —  I  see 

you  understand  yourselves  and  me. 
Vivas  to  those  who  are  weaned  from  walking  and  go 

the  many-mileing  gait ! 
I  beat  triumphal  drums  with  my  head, 
I  blow  through  all  my  embouchures  my  loudest  and 

gayest  music  to  you. 
We  slip  the  trammels  of  space  and  time,  we  level 

poise  our  glittering  flight ; 
Inland  and  by  the  sea-coast  and  boundary  lines,  and 

we  pass  all  boundary  lines. 
Our  swift  ordinances  are  on  their  way  over  the  whole 

earth. 


This 'with  apologies  to  the  Poet  of  Humanity  and  America 
—  and  so  an 

END. 


University  Press  :   John  Wilson  &  Son,  Cambridge. 


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